


Hyperion

by AngryMadmoth



Category: Elite: Dangerous, Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Slow Burn, Varying amounts of headcanon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2018-08-12 13:24:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 64,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7936372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngryMadmoth/pseuds/AngryMadmoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Service in Federation had prepared her for most things the universe could throw at her.</p>
<p>Being thrust into a war between a beleaguered humanity fighting a losing war against a fanatic conglomerate of genocidal aliens was not one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> Be warned, I'll likely be playing quite loose with established canon of both Halo and Elite: Dangerous.

3rd of May, 2551

Halberd-class destroyer UNSC Iroquois

* * *

 

In any other situation, the clueless silence following his query would've been almost comical.

 

Almost.

 

"I say again, what are we seeing?" Repeated Commander Jacob Keyes, frowning as he took his seat among the crewmen of _UNSC Iroquois._

 

"An unidentified ship appeared on our long-range sensors a couple of minutes ago, roughly one hundred million kilometres away." Lieutenant Hall was the first to reply, turning to face her commanding officer. "It just appeared from nowhere."

 

"Appeared?" Keyes inquired curiously.

 

"Yes, sir. Strange thing is, there was no slipspace rupture, no nothing. It sat there for a couple of minutes before it moved."

 

"What'd it do, Lieutenant?"

 

"We recorded a significant energy build-up. That's when we sent for you, sir, and were preparing for a slipspace jump. Next thing we know, it's speeding away towards this system's star. It then began to orbit it at one third the speed of light, moderately deep in the corona. It's been doing that for about ten minutes, sir."

 

"So we've got an unknown ship with no IFF transponder and possessing sophisticated faster-than-light travel. If any of you have suggestions, now's the time." Keyes looked over his bridge crew, patiently awaiting a response.

 

"We make contact, sir." It was Lieutenant Aki Hikowa who spoke first this time.

 

"Are you out of your mind, Aki?" Jaggers was quick to criticize, as always. "For all we know, it's hungry and its favourite snack is lone UNSC destroyers!"

 

"With all due respect, Lieutenant Jaggers," the woman ground out, her tone very much suggesting the opposite, "that ship isn't Covenant. It clearly doesn't use slipspace."

 

"W-well, perhaps they built a new design!"

 

"Why would they? Their FTL capabilities outclass ours tremendously." Dominique added his two credits to the ongoing conversation. "If it ain't broke, don't fix it, as the saying goes."

 

In any other situation, it would've been a privilege to watch Lieutenant Hikowa verbally ream Jaggers. But the problem in the shape of an unknown starship still remained, and needed to be addressed.

 

"I would very much like to let you continue this discussion, but I've made up my mind. Lieutenant Dominique, send out a ping - see if you can draw its attention. Lieutenant Hall, have the reactors brought up to seventy percent. Get the point-defense turrets online and warm up the Archer Missile pods. I'd hate to be caught with our pants down."

 

“Aye-aye, sir.”

* * *

 

“Nuuuurgh.” Commander Evangeline Graves vocalised drunkenly as she sluggishly pawed at her ship's controls. The incessant beeping of alerts filled her ears with their shrill whine as she pulled herself upright.

 

“Computer... status report.” She gasped, her stomach feeling like a Gordian Knot from Hell. Almost immediately, the right-hand holographic panel lit up, accompanied by the _clank-clink-clink-clink_ that informed her that the shields were down, but had begun to regenerate.

 

The status report didn't bring much good news – her ship's hull had been subjected to enormous stresses – like she'd been interdicted by a hundred pirates at once. The corvette's systems had experienced a massive power surge, which had fried a number of secondary and tertiary systems, but had, luckily, left the primaries relatively intact – a quick test confirmed that all hardpoints could be deployed and retracted, and the hundreds of metres of power cables still functioned without any immediate problems. The two remote-controllable F63 Condor fighters were scrap, however. It was no big loss, luckily. She could always manufacture new ones. As it were, things could've been a lot worse. A frightening number of pilots disappeared without a trace. Despite the wonders of 34th century technology, accidents happened. Yet, the siren call of the stars beckoned tirelessly; men and women of brave and adventurous bearing ventured forth all the same.

 

“ _Shields online.”_ The synthetic voice of her ship's computer jostled Evangeline from her thoughts and she quickly switched to Galaxy Map, eager to ascertain her whereabouts.

 

Imagine her shock when, instead of a reassuring visualization of the Milky Way galaxy, she was presented with two sentences.

 

_NO CONNECTION AVAILABLE_

_SWITCHING TO LOCAL COPY OF GALACTIC MAP_

 

Oh, this was not good.

 

“Balls...” She cursed, trying again.

 

No sell.

 

Groaning in defeat, she activated the Frame Shift Drive, aligning herself with the distant star. The fuel tanks were nearly empty, and she really preferred not to sit in a stasis pod, waiting for Fuel Rats to save her ass.

 

“ _Four. Three. Two. One. Engage.”_ With a jolt, the corvette accelerated into supercruise, towards the distant star.

* * *

 

It took less than a minute to reach the star and settle in a sustainable orbit, the fuel scoop scarfing down countless cubicmetres of gaseous hydrogen, processing it through a number of filters and compressors before it was suitable for storage and eventual consumption for the power plant. A quick discovery scan revealed the system wasn't much to look at – a mediocre asteroid belt and a couple of barren rocks orbiting a main sequence star. The exploration data for it probably wouldn't be worth much.

 

However, there was a much more pressing issue in the form of a bruise on Evangeline's head. Concussions weren't fun to deal with, moreso when in deep space, where the only medical aid to be found was in a first-aid kit that was woefully lacking.

 

She hissed in discomfort as she tentatively poked at the swollen bump with a finger, quite frustrated that she had no ice at hand, all the while trying to remember what had led to this.

 

She remembered leaving Crick City in 19 Phi-2 Ceti. It'd been one of the many ports she'd called home. The resource-rich asteroid belts around the system's gas giants drew many a miner there, which, in turn, brought many a pirate looking for an easy score.

 

Which, in turn, brought pilots like her to the system, always up for thrashing pirates and getting paid for it. She'd made a hefty profit from doing so – with the closest resource extraction sites less than half a light-second away from Crick City, resupplying wasn't an issue, either. And with a group of friendly pilots as her wingmen, they'd made a killing (har har har).

 

Of course, eventually, the influx of pirates slowed down to a trickle as they learned to avoid the system, and they'd been forced to move on. She'd packed up, gathering all her property, and had set out for a new system to temporarily settle down in. And then...

 

Ice filled her veins as the gears in her head clicked and she finally remembered what was responsible for her current predicament.

 

An ugly, octagonal bastard of a ship had torn her from witchspace mid-jump, shrieking at her through the comms, and she'd no longer known up from down before passing out.

 

Thargoids were, without a doubt, bad news. They could pull any ship from witchspace, and had repeatedly done so, without any reason given, and it almost always ended badly for the victim. She could only be grateful that she was still breathing.

 

“ _Fuel scooping complete.”_ With a clunk, the fuel scoop retracted itself into the corvette's hull, the fuel tanks refilled.

 

She tried the galaxy map again. It remained stubbornly useless.

 

“Damn it...” She grumbled, sinking into her seat, gears whirring in her mind as she began to plan, all the while the star's corona howled and shrieked as it scraped across the shields.

 

_Unknown signal source detected,_ one of the panels began to blink, and she examined the prompt before sighing resignedly. With her map being a problem child, there wasn't much else she could do. With masterful ease, she broke orbit and accelerated towards the distant signal.

* * *

 

“It worked. The mystery ship is moving towards us, sir.” Dominique's sudden report didn't do much to ease the tension. “ETA two minutes, sir.”

 

“Reactor output at sixty-seven percent and climbing.” Hall announced curtly.

 

“Missile pods 1 through 17 are ready to fire on command. Awaiting target lock.” Hikowa added, the very image of professionalism.

 

It was a tense and nerve-wracking ninety seconds later that Dominique announced that the unknown vessel had come to a sudden halt just under ten kilometres away from them.

 

“Put it on the main screen, Lieutenant.” Keyes ordered. Mere moments later, the bridge crew could finally see the alien ship. It was keel-shaped, with a narrow, blunt prow that became wider to the aft of the ship. It came as a surprise to Keyes that it didn't look all that alien to him – if anything, it seemed rather utilitarian.

 

But the part that really surprised everyone present was the lettering across its front, written in clear English.

 

_HYPERION_

* * *

 

Evangeline gaped in awe at the huge, imposing starship looming ahead of her – the dark-hued hull was illuminated by a number of spotlights across its armour plating, _UNSC IROQUOIS_ painted across its side. The ship was big – easily at least twice as big as _Hyperion,_ and was bristling with big, double-barrelled turrets whose destructive power she had no interest in seeing.

 

Unnerved, she opened navigation panel, dismayed at seeing a line of blinking NON-APLICCABLE where she'd usually see a list of systems within her jump range. Locking onto the ponderous behemoth didn't help things, either – the allegiance/hull/shield integrity tabs remained stubbornly empty, and as a result, the computer began to wail as it registered the other ship maintaining a number of passive locks onto the corvette.

* * *

 

“It's human?” Hall mouthed silently in utter disbelief.

 

The tension could be cut with a knife, a small part of Keyes idly reflected as everyone's eyes remained glued to the screen, taking in the other ship's appearance, again and again examining the lettering just to make sure they weren't hallucinating.

 

“Sir? Sir, what do we do?” Lieutenant Hikowa queried, and he realised he had to pull himself together. His crew looked to him for direction and guidance. It would do no-one any good to stare like a witless cretin.

 

“Lieutenant Dominique – see if you can establish communications with them. Try everything you know of. If it's actually a human ship, then there's a chance they'll be able to respond.”

 

The taciturn officer nodded and feverishly began to work at his console, rapidly typing away for a minute before speaking into a microphone. “This is _UNSC Iroquois,_ hailing the _Hyperion_ and its crew. Identify yourselves.”

 

Static issued from the speakers – Dominique tried again, with similar results. The other officers waited with bated breath, watching as the communications officer tried once more, but was, yet again, rewarded with the same results. It wasn't until he'd resorted to FM radio that his attempts bore fruit. The voice of a woman, laden with static, yet still audible, could be heard as they received a reply from the other ship.

 

“ _This is Commander Evangeline Graves of_ Hyperion. _I hear you,_ Iroquois. _”_

 

Dominique allowed himself a rare smile before turning to Keyes. “The horn's all yours, sir.”

 

“Damn good job, Lieutenant.” Nodding in thanks to his subordinate, Keyes spoke into the microphone built into his command seat. “This is Commander Jacob Keyes of the _Iroquois._ As far as I know, there are no ships in the UNSC named _Hyperion._ Frankly, I feel out of my depth here. I've never seen a ship like yours.”

 

“ _I could say the same, Commander. So, what's the next step?”_

 

“I'm sure you have questions that I could provide the answers to, and you can do the same for us. Would you find an in-person meeting agreeable?”

 

“ _As long as you have a doctor onboard, sure. I'm fairly sure I have a bit of a concussion.”_

 

“I can arrange for a medical team to inspect you.”

 

“ _Great! I'll approach to two klicks and leave on a small craft. Do you have a hangar I could land in?”_

 

“We do. I'll have it prepared for your arrival.”

 

“ _Understood,_ Iroquois. _Over and out.”_

 

“Lieutenant, prepare a quarantine team. Have the hangar depressurized in advance, and tell the crew to stand down.” Keyes addressed Hall, who promptly did as ordered. The tension, having grown worryingly fast, dissipated just as quick as everyone realised that there wouldn't be a shooting match with a ship whose destructive capabilities were an unknown, even if it was a third of the size of _Iroquois._

* * *

 

The fighter deployment rack whirred as the Condor's canopy slid shut around her. The hangar bay doors swung open, and Evangeline took the opportunity to examine the bottom surface of _Hyperion._ It looked like the damage was mostly superficial. Given that one could find themselves touring deep space for months without any support, all ships were built with numerous redundant systems, meaning that even if an explorer was flying an Asp that was held together by snot, tears and prayer, they'd be able to return to inhabited space, long as they took no further damage.

 

“Thank heaven for small mercies,” she muttered aloud before keying the throttle, sending the agile fighter towards the other ship. It didn't take long for her to cross the distance between _Hyperion_ and _Iroquois,_ toggling the flight assist on and off as she circled the massive ship, looking for anything that resembled a hangar bay.

 

_Or maybe you should've asked them where the hangar is to begin with. Durr._

 

Luckily, she found her destination moments later, courtesy of blinking marker lights that drew her attention. With a deft flick of controls, she soon was on the correct approach.

* * *

 

Keyes watched the small starship approach through the window of the hangar control room – the flier was barely half the size of one of the Pelicans that occupied rest of the hangar. With grace that was equal to that of a Covenant Seraph, the small craft spun about and set down, as the hangar doors began to close. Mere moments after the slabs of metal were back in place, the air pumps began to work.

 

“Quarantine team, prepare to enter hangar.”

* * *

 

The canopy slid open with a hiss as Evangeline wriggled herself out from the not-very-spacious-at-all cockpit, sliding down the Condor's hull, her boots hitting the floor with a quiet thump. Her joints protested as she stretched to her full height, wincing at how stiff her limbs felt – she could never get used to sitting in the same seat for hours with next to no breaks to speak of, no matter how much money she spent on a better Remlok suit.

 

Her musings were interrupted as a door on the far end of the hangar opened, and a group of hazmat suit-wearing crewmen walked inside, all of whom were carrying tools and equipment of some sort.

 

“Commander's orders, ma'am,” one of the crewmen spoke, approaching her. “We're to ensure that no possible contaminants are brought onboard.”

 

“So long as there's no probing involved.” The crewman let out a chuckle at that.

 

“Just a couple of scans for anything that could cause health problems, I promise.” In an instant, the others had surrounded Evangeline and her ship, circling both with their tools for the better part of a minute before she was spoken to again.

 

“Everything's clean. The commander will be here to greet you in a moment.”

 

“Alright.” With nothing else to do, she leaned against her fighter as the quarantine team left her to her own devices.

* * *

 

Keyes could, once again, feel anxiety mounting as he entered the hangar, a Marine security team following him, marching in perfect unison. He'd be lying to himself if he said he wasn't equal parts curious and apprehensive to see their guest.

 

Luckily, he didn't have to wait long, as he spotted the solitary figure leaning against the small fighter – which was comically tiny when compared to UNSC's own GA-TL1 Longswords.

 

The pilot was clad in a form-fitting suit made from a black material, a number of tiny blue lights glowing on its surface. The headpiece was, compared to Navy pilots' equipment, more compact, with an opaque faceplate.

 

As he drew closer, the woman – Graves, he recalled her last name – stood straighter, almost as if she was at a military parade. A moment later, there was a click and hiss, and the helmet separated into several segments that retracted into the suit's collar, revealing a youthful face, framed by coal-black hair tied in a neat bun.

 

“Commander Keyes. Good to meet you.” She spoke moments after the Marine detail stopped, backs ramrod-straight, rifles held at ease.

* * *

 

If she was being honest to herself, she was more than a little impressed by the grizzled man in front of her – he all but radiated an aura of determination, and the medals on his chest only added to the impression of a seasoned officer.

 

_Confidence without arrogance, command without tyranny._

 

“Likewise, commander.” He replied, offering a handshake, a gesture she gladly accepted. “Now, I don't mean to be rude, but I need a straightforward answer from you – who are you?”

 

“Vice Admiral Evangeline Graves of the Federal Navy Auxiliary.” She replied without hesitation.

 

“I must admit, I've never heard of a Federal Navy.” He paused, considering the pros and cons of a question that would, in all likeliness, either turn this situation rather bizarre, or give him a migraine. “What year do you think it is?”

 

“Uh, thirty-three-oh-two?”

 

_Grrk._

 

_Both it is, then,_ he sighed internally. “Try twenty-five-fifty-one.”

 

“Oh.” Evangeline blinked. “That complicates things. Look, I'll just rattle off a couple of things, please tell me if any of them ring a bell. Galactic Federation. Empire of Achenar. Alliance of Independent Systems. GalCorp. Lave.”

 

“Sorry.” Keyes shrugged apologetically.

 

Evangeline blinked again, processing this turn of events before sighing deeply, facepalming. “Mothefucking Thargoids.”

 


	2. Introductions 2: Introduction Harder

"You seem awfully calm despite your predicament." Keyes spoke as Evangeline unlocked the life support unit from the back of her suit, setting the compact piece of equipment down on a nearby table as a doctor booted up one of the Sterile Field Generator units in the medbay.

"Well, the key to success is to treat victory and defeat all the same when you meet those. I'd be doing no-one a favour if I went into hysterics, right? Sure, being pulled into a different universe by a species of aliens who are as enigmatic as they get irritates me something fierce. But at least I'm not dead. I could've ended up in a decaying orbit around a star, with busted engines and a hull breach. There's a million other ways I could've died throughout the years, so I've learnt to take it all in stride."

"A fair point, I suppose." Keyes conceded, averting his eyes as Evangeline wriggled her way out from her suit, putting it aside as well. Old habits died hard, he pondered, even if the Evangeline was wearing underwear. He still remembered how awkward it had been to meet Catherine Halsey, while the aforementioned scientist was simultaneously naked and retching up bronchial surfactant.

“Alright, ma'am, just lie down there.” The doctor gestured to the medical bed surrounded by a pale orange glow.

“What's up with this?” Evangeline queried, experimentally poking the glowing barrier.

“Sterile field generator. Kills every last microbe, bacteria, or virus that might be stuck to you – anything that could cause an infection, gone.”

“Wow. Impressive.” Evangeline whistled lowly before carefully laying down in the bed. “Must be a lifesaver for combat medics.”

“Indeed it is. Injuries can be treated in the field, reducing the chances of a wounded soldier dying before they can be evacuated.”

“Next thing you'll tell me is that you've got cloning figured out.” Evangeline half-jokingly suggested.

“We do, actually.” The doctor grinned, busily typing away at the terminal in front of him, bright blue beams sweeping across the woman's body. “The smallest flash-cloning units can be carried by a single man or woman. And, since the process involves using a sample of the patient's DNA, there's zero rejection risk.”

“Has anyone ever cloned a person?” The doctor paused at that, looking at her over his glasses, his expression serious before speaking.

“It's been accomplished several times in the past. However, no clone has lasted more than a year, far as I know. In fact, flash-cloning someone carries with it the harshest punishments. There are other ways to ruin your life in these days, but few as efficient.”

“Why?”

“It only takes a couple of days, or less, to clone an organ or limb. A human brain cannot be expected to learn basic bodily functions fast enough in the same time frame. As a result, a number of neurological problems will begin to develop, all of which will invariably lead to death.”

“Christ...” Evangeline muttered stunnedly.

“Exactly. Anyways, onto a less depressing topic – that bruise of yours is merely superficial, and I can detect no other cranial trauma. It'll go away on its own soon enough. Other than that, you're the very picture of health.”

“Thanks, doc.” Evangeline pulled herself upright, before rubbing her shoulder. “My skin feels weird.”

“Just a side-effect from the sterile field. Nothing to worry about.”

“Alright, then. Thanks again, doc.” She thanked as she suited up.

“It's what I'm here for.”

 

* * *

 

_“Commander?”_ Dominique's tinny voice emanated from Keyes' earpiece as he and Evangeline made their way to the bridge.

“Go ahead, Lieutenant,” He responded, pressing a finger to the small device fitted to his earlobe.

_“We've got word back from Reach HIGHCOM. Vice Admiral Stanforth wants to debrief both you and Commander Graves in person.”_

“Well, I guess we're not in breach of Cole Protocol here, being that it applies to Covenant vessels.”

_“It would seem so, sir.”_

“Send Lieutenant Hall down to the hangar, and tell her to bring some star charts.”

_“Aye-aye, sir.”_ With the conversation over, Keyes turned to look at Evangeline, who was waiting expectantly.

“There's been a change of plans – our brass want to meet you, which would involve going to them. And I presume you'd be averse to leaving your ship here.”

“You presume correctly, Commander. Where are we supposed to go, anyways?”

“Planet Reach, in Epsilon Eridani system.”

“Epsilon Eridani? Ten light-years and change from Sol?”

“The very same.” Keyes admitted, more than a little surprised.

“Looks like we've got a case of carbon copy universe here. Anyways, I've done a couple of trading runs to and from that system. Getting there shouldn't be a problem.”

“All the same, I'd like one of my officers to accompany you, so that none of the patrols cause you any problems. Better safe than sorry.”

“Alright. Let me just summon the other fighter I have onboard.” Keyes nodded, and they resumed their trek to one of the elevators which would take them to their destination.

 

* * *

 

“Lieutenant Victoria Hall, reporting.” Hall snapped to attention as Evangeline approached her.

“At ease, Lieutenant. You don't need to salute me – I'm not part of the UNSC.”

“Very well. Commander Keyes has provided me with one-time use access codes, seeing as your ship doesn't have an IFF transponder. They'll let us approach Station Gamma without any problems.”

“Sounds good. Now...” Evangeline patted the hull of the closest Condor. “Do you know how to fly a starfighter?”

“Well, I started my career in the UNSC Air Force, but it turned out I had a knack for requisitions and the like. Thus, I was groomed to manage any and all shipboard operations, be it crew rotation, maintenance shifts, or equipment management. But to answer your question, yes. Nothing like this, though.” Hall lamely gestured at the small fighter.

“Well, it's the same principles – yaw, roll, pitch, thrust. Throttle's on your left, pitch and roll on your right. Yaw is controlled by two pedals on the floor. Lateral and vertical thrust is toggled via a button on the control stick.”

“Understood.”

“Relax, you'll do fine.” Evangeline shrugged as she climbed inside her Condor's seat, locking together the safety belts. “No one's asking you to race through an asteroid field. Just follow my lead and we'll be onboard the _Hyperion_ in no time.”

 

* * *

 

“I shouldn't have touched that button.”

“Probably not.”

“Even a Longsword can't accelerate like that.”

“Yeah, you were close to hitting Mach One there.”

“I just... wow.” Hall exhaled shakily, gripping the guard rail as Evangeline stood nearby in the _Hyperion's_ compact hangar. “Wow.” She repeated, before slowly regaining her composure. “Um, sorry about shrieking like a banshee.”

“Think nothing of it.” Evangeline shrugged. “I didn't react any better when I boosted in an Eagle.”

“Okay. Right. Well, if you don't mind, I'd prefer to pretend this never happened.”

“Can do.”

 

* * *

 

Hall watched curiously, as Evangeline brought up a holographic representation of Milky Way galaxy, a sparse network of lines covering it, mostly concentrated around the Orion Arm, though some reached far into the other side of the galaxy.

“What's that?”

“Galaxy Map. Usually, it shows every known star system that there is. Now, however, I can only access the local copy on my hard drive, which only shows the systems I've been to.” Hall leaned closer, squinting as she inspected the map, before her eyes widened in surprise.

“You... you've been to the galactic core?”

“Yep.”

“How? Why?”

“I flew there. Because I wanted to.”

“Right. Of course you did.”

“I got pics and videos if you don't believe.” Evangeline offered.

“No, I believe you. Just don't know how many more surprises I can endure before my brain calls it quits. Let's just get to Reach.”

“Alrighty.” Evangeline hummed to herself as she locked in the coordinates, seeing the distance being displayed – 13.2 light-years. With a single pressed button, the subtle, muffled thrum of the engines was joined by a second, higher-pitched drone that slowly grew higher.

_“Frameshift drive engaged.”_ Fifteen seconds passed, with Hall nervously fidgeting in her seat before she saw a blue glow envelop the corvette's hull. _“Four. Three. Two. One. Engage.”_ With a bang, the corvette lurched forward, and Hall was treated to the wondrously creepy sight of witchspace.

“Whoa...” Hall whispered in awe, eyes wide as she beheld the spectacle, prompting Evangeline to grin.

“Witchspace. Looks cool, doesn't it? I was just as dumbstruck on my first jump.” Evangeline leaned back in her seat, letting out a sigh as she flexed her fingers before grasping the controls again. Mere seconds later, there was another bang, and Hall gasped loudly in terror as the witchspace was replaced by the star known as Epsilon Eridani, as the Federal warship came to a halt a little over two light-seconds from it.

“Jesus!” Hall exclaimed, wide-eyed. “That's a little too close for comfort.”

“Nothing to worry about, we're moving at just thirty kilometres per second. It'll take hours for us to even get close to the sun.”

“Even so, can we not be pointed at the giant ball of burning gases? Also, did we just jump over thirteen light-years in a matter of seconds?”

“Yeah, what of it?”

In lieu of a response, Hall simply elected to stare dumbly at the datapad in her lap.

“So, where are we supposed to go, again? I'm getting a bunch of unknown signals around the second planet, which I guess is Reach and its orbital stations.”

“Station Gamma. Its orbit should take it over the city of Quezon at this time. Here's its orbital trajectory.” Evangeline examined the datapad for several moments before turning her attention to the navigation panel and selecting one of the unknown signals.

“Coordinates locked in. We'll be there in about two minutes.”

Hall nodded silently, as the corvette slowly pitched upwards – Evangeline slowly opened the throttle, sending the advanced warship towards their destination.

_And now we're moving faster than light. Without slipspace,_ Hall thought miserably.

 

* * *

 

The coordinates had been correct – upon closing the distance to Station Gamma down to one thousand kilometres, Evangeline had dropped down from supercruise. The destination lock landed them a little over eight kilometres from the ring-shaped space station, its surface covered with communications dishes and docking bays. The codes Hall transmitted upon their arrival had expedited their docking permission and soon, they found themselves on approach to a docking bay that could house _Hyperion._

“God _damn,_ now that's a helluva ship.” Evangeline muttered aloud in awe as she saw a _Marathon_ -class heavy cruiser rumble past them a mere four kilometres away – its rough, utilitarian appearance reminded her of Federation's own _Farragut_ -class battlecruisers, while Empire's _Majestic_ -class interdictors could not be any more different if they tried to, favouring form over function.

“Eat your heart out, Core Dynamics.”

Landing _Hyperion_ on the station hadn't been particularly eventful – as soon as the bay had been repressurized, a noticeable mob of deck crew had surrounded the corvette, milling about curiously as Evangeline shut down all shipboard systems save for the power plant and life support. While her corvette could carry up to 96 tons of fuel, even when idling, it could go through fuel at a scary pace. A general-purpose Anaconda she'd fitted out could go through two tons of fuel per hour while cruising at sub-light speeds, or two and a half in supercruise.

With a flick of a switch, she shut down the two Class-4 multi-cannons mounted behind _Hyperion's_ bridge. One last flick, and her seat spun about before she stood up, motioning for Hall to follow.

“Let's go, Lieutenant.” Hall nodded and got up, following Evangeline as they made their way to the primary cargo bay.

 

* * *

 

“Come on, people, step aside. Make way, make way!” Staff Sergeant Marcus Stacker shouted above the nervous chatter of the crewmen of Station Gamma as he and a squad of Marines made their way through the crowd towards the recently-landed ship. It was when he'd just about gotten clear of the crowd that he heard a muffled whirring, and saw a slab of armour plating detach from the ship's underside, slowly being lowered to the floor via a number of hydraulic cylinders attached to the platform's edges. Almost immediately, the spectators quieted down, and the rest of his security detail could form up behind him as they made their way closer to the ship.

It wasn't long before the platform had descended low enough that he could see two women standing on it – one wearing a black flight suit of sorts, and the other was in UNSC uniform. His team came to a halt a few meters away as the platform hit the bay floor with a clang.

“Commander Graves?”

“That'd be me, yeah.” Evangeline replied, stepping forth.

“Vice Admiral Stanforth requests your presence. Please follow me.”

“Alright.” She nodded, before turning to bid farewell to Hall. “Take care of yourself, Lieutenant.”

 

* * *

 

“So, that's a nice ship you've got.” Stacker spoke as the group waited in the tram that would take them to Stanforth.

“Oh, it gets me from A to B. In style, to boot.” Evangeline shrugged nonchalantly.

“I have to admit, I thought we'd be getting a bigger party to escort. Are the rest of your crew staying onboard?”

“Nah. Only needs one person to pilot it.” She shrugged again.

“That's a little far-fetched if you don't mind me saying so, ma'am.” He leaned back in the seat, not quite believing her words.

“Well, it does sound a little too arrogant, but it's true – whether it's a tiny Sidewinder, or a big, mean Imperial Cutter, it only takes one to fly it. Of course, sometimes it can get a little overwhelming, but hey, at least you learn how to multi-task.”

“I'll take your word for it, ma'am.” There was a chime that emanated from the tram's speakers, alerting its passengers that their destination was approaching. “Alright, we're just about there.”

Mere moments later, the tram smoothly came to a halt at the station, its doors swinging open with a pneumatic hiss, and they disembarked.

“The Admiral's office is just down this hallway, ma'am.”

“Lead on, Sergeant.”

 

* * *

 

Before they were permitted access, a pair of heavily-armed guards triple-checked Stacker's credentials and scanned Evangeline for any concealed weapons. Only then was she allowed to enter the office.

As she pushed the door open, she could hear the tail end of an intense discussion. Steeling herself, she walked inside, seeing four people present.

The first two were older men, their uniforms bearing the insignia of vice admirals, and she had to fight the instinct to stand at parade attention. The third was an older woman, with greying hair and keenly intelligent eyes, wearing a white lab coat. The last one was a blonde woman wearing some type of combat armour, whose appearance instantly set off warning flags inside Evangeline's head – it was like trying to stare down a hungry tiger.

“Ah, Commander. Good, you're here.” The first admiral spoke. “I believe introductions are in order. I am Vice Admiral Hieronymus Michael Stanforth of the United Nations Space Command.”

The second admiral joined in. “I'm Vice Admiral Danforth Whitcomb, also of the UNSC.” He was a powerfully-built man, akin to a bear standing on two legs, with a thick moustache.

“I am Doctor Catherine Elizabeth Halsey.” The elderly woman added, nodding her head as a friendly greeting, yet continued regarding their guest with a calculating look.

“Captain Veronica Dare, Office of Naval Intelligence.” The predatory blonde announced curtly.

Sensing it was her turn, Evangeline drew herself up to her full height. “Commander Evangeline Graves, Vice Admiral of Federal Navy Auxiliary, in command of Federal Corvette _Hyperion.”_

“Well met, Commander.” Stanforth spoke, gesturing to a free chair, and she took it. “Now, your arrival has us asking a lot of questions. And you're the only one who has the answers to them.”

“Where should I start?”

“Being that you're clearly of military bearing, I would guess your service record would be a good start.” Whitcomb suggested, and she nodded in agreement.

“Alright. I'm twenty-nine years old, born in year 3273 aboard the Edmonson High space station in Beta Hydri system. I grew up in a Federation-funded orphanage, and enlisted in the Federal Navy at the age of sixteen. I completed two four-year tours of duty aboard _FNS Zenith_ and reached the rank of First Assistant Engineer. At the end of my second tour, I received an honourable discharge and applied for a Pilots' Federation license, and continued to aid the Federal Navy Auxiliary.”

“That's not a half-bad resume.” Stanforth nodded before speaking again. “What's the Pilots' Federation, exactly?”

“Their origins can be traced back to the early years of the 29th century when the number of privately-owned starships increased exponentially. The Pilots' Federation was formed as a conduit for exchange of profitable trade route information and was the foundation for mutual protection agreements as piracy reared its ugly head.”

“If so, then how were unruly members kept in check?”

“Zero-tolerance policy towards any and all dishonourable behaviour. Someone does something cretinous, boom, instant bounty on their head. And someone _will_ hunt them down and blast them into the void with extreme prejudice.”

“I suppose it makes sense – an independent organization that works in the spirit of cooperation and keeps their own in check would see more business than hired guns whose only loyalty is to profits.” Halsey added her contribution to the conversation.

“Exactly.” Evangeline nodded before continuing. “Of course, being that Elite-ranked pilots pften have kill-counts in their thousands, some see the organization as rather blood-thirsty. Still, pirates are quite organized these days, so everyone with a smidgen of common sense will rely on the Pilots' Federation.”

“Interesting...” Halsey looked down before looking back at Evangeline. “So, what is the Federal Auxiliary?”

“It's an irregular militia if anything. You carry out tasks for a minor faction that aligned with the Federation, and you get paid, the faction's influence is expanded, and both your reputation and rank are improved.”

“Are there any other benefits to doing so?”

“After getting promoted enough times, a number of Core Dynamics' combat-oriented ships will be made available for purchase. Due to my service with the standing Navy, I was eligible to buy the military variant of the Corvette. The civilian variant has an abysmal jump range, even when heavily modified.”

“That reminds me...” Whitcomb interjected, and everyone present turned to look at him. “It'll be a little under a week until _UNSC Iroquois_ will have returned. Yet you arrived here so fast. How did you do it? What sort of FTL capabilities does your ship have?”

“A modified Alcubierre drive. We just call them Frame Shift Drives, or FSDs for short.”

“Alcubierre drive? Most interesting.” Halsey added, quite curious by now. “What sort of range does it have?”

“Well, the _Hyperion_ can do a little over twenty-three light-years per jump, unladen. Which is about ten seconds, give or take.”

The silence that followed her claim was deafening. Stanforth looked severely ill. Dare's expression hadn't changed much, save for a slight widening of eyes. Halsey gave a quiet gasp, while Whitcomb looked like someone had shot his dog in front of him, and then exclaimed 'it's just a prank, bro!'

“Twenty... three...” Stanforth spoke with a weak voice, but Evangeline didn't seem to notice their shock, and continued to pile it on with a dumptruck and two bulldozers.

“It's not too bad for a ship that's armed to the teeth. I have, or had, I suppose, a Faulcon DeLacy Anaconda that could do forty light-years when appropriately kitted out. Or eighty, if I had the materials to synthesise the needed FSD booster.” It was then that she took note of her dumbstruck audience. “What kind of range do your ships have?”

“The Shaw-Fujikawa Translight Engines installed on our ships can do two to three light-years. Per day.” Whitcomb was the one who answered.

“Oh. _Oh.”_ Evangeline exclaimed, momentarily speechless as Whitcomb nodded grimly before speaking again.

“There's one other thing we haven't mentioned. We're at war with a religious conglomerate of alien races that call themselves the Covenant. They see us as a blight, and will not stop until they've exterminated every last one of us. It's been twenty-six years since it all began, and we've been losing world after world as they drive into our territories. Their technology is leagues ahead of ours – their slipspace drives are much more faster and precise than ours, the energy shielding on their warships allows them to survive attacks which would bring any UNSC ship down, and their plasma weapons boil away metres of Titanium-A armour plating like it's not there. And every planet they cannon overrun, they glass it, with no regard for civilian lives. Every charred husk of a world they leave behind is a mass grave for millions – billions, even.”

“Harvest was where they struck first.” Stanforth took over – a hologram of a Earth-type world winked into existence above the table. “It was a peaceful agrarian world, exporting vast amounts of grain every year to other worlds. This is what it looked like in 2525.” He gestured to the verdant planet before typing a new set of commands into the holoprojector's keypad. “This is what it looked after the Covenant were done with it.” The hologram changed, and Evangeline couldn't stop the gasp of horror that escaped her.

Where there had been green and blue, a glaring mess of orange lines remained as the planet's atmosphere boiled away. Vast swathes of arable farmland had been turned to glass, and mountain ranges had split open from the sheer destructive force of plasma bombardment, while oceans and seas had boiled away.

“Sweet mother of mercy...” Evangeline whispered, appalled.

“Exactly.” Stanforth dismissed the image, standing up to his full height, looking at her, his expression of utter seriousness. “This is where we hope that-”

“Say no more. I'm in.” At seeing the admiral's expression morph into that of surprise, she continued. “I know what you probably expected me to say – that this isn't my fight. That I shouldn't have to risk life and limb for complete strangers, and should, instead, look for a way back.”

“Something to that effect, yes.” Stanforth admitted.

“Well, I wouldn't be much of a soldier if I stood by and allowed a genocide to take place, now would I? I joined the Navy to protect people. If I ran, I'd be spitting on the oath of service I took.”

“Commander, you have no idea how relieved I am to hear that. You have my thanks – and, if fortune favours us, the thanks of the entire UNSC.”

“Think nothing of it, Admiral. And, if it's no problem, could you tell the good Captain to stop staring at me? I appreciate the attention, but I'd probably appreciate it more if she took me out on a date first.” Dare had, in fact, been silently glaring at Evangeline, and blushed at the implication, before scowling. Others, however, appreciated the brief moment of levity.

“CINCONI will not be happy about this.” The ONI officer warned Stanforth before marching away.

“What else is new?”


	3. You wouldn't download a cup of tea

9th of May, 2551

Reach

Station Gamma

 

* * *

 

 

“...all I'm saying is that you'd avoid a lot of hassle if you used this algorithm, Cortana.” Halsey caught the tale end of Evangeline's words as the doors to _Hyperion's_ bridge slid open.

 

“I enjoy being mentally challenged, thank you.” The AI responded haughtily, crossing her arms as her purple-hued avatar hung mid-air, without the aid of a holotank – said holotank was gathering dust in a corner, oddly enough.

 

“Well, I'm glad you're coming to terms with it.”

 

“Thank- Hey!” Cortana exclaimed with mock indignation before chuckling. “Alright, you got me with that one.”

 

“I see you're getting along well.” Halsey announced her presence. Evangeline spun her seat around to face the doctor, waving in greeting, and Cortana followed suit, albeit her greeting was a little different.

 

“Look, ma, no holotank!”

 

“I can see that.” Halsey intoned dryly before her curiosity got the better of her. “How are you doing that, anyways? That holotank was brought up here for a reason.”

 

“The _Hyperion_ has numerous holo-emitters installed throughout its interior. And the hard drives are surprisingly spacious. I can just about stretch out my legs in here. Oh, and I can do this!” The AI snapped her fingers, turning blue after a moment. “I'm blue now!”

 

_Snap._

 

“I'm purple again!”

 

_Snap._

 

“ _Voilá,_ I am blue yet again!” Halsey couldn't stop herself from snickering at her quite literal brainchild's antics.

 

“No other problems, then?”

 

“Once I finished coding an emulator program to allow for seamless connection between me and _Hyperion,_ no. First thing we did was bring the ship's navigational database up to scratch, given that our guest whose presence validates the multiverse theory will likely be around for a while.”

 

“And the second thing?”

 

“Trying to create blueprints of viable FSDs that could be fitted to our ships. The biggest problem is mass, which seems to be the main constraint for jump range. While the Federal and Imperial capital ships are almost twice as long as a _Marathon_ -class cruiser, they are nowhere near as massive, being that centuries-advanced space-age alloys are used in their construction, and they rely on state-of-the-art energy shielding for defence instead of metres-thick armour plating. Many of their innovations in spaceflight seem to come in the shape of miniaturization and economization.”

 

“And what about the energy shields? Those would, without a doubt, save countless lives in space engagements.”

 

“The same problem, more or less. Small ships have weak shields that regenerate quickly, but their main strength remains their agility. Larger and larger ships have progressively stronger shields, but the regeneration rate decreases in turn, making them suited to battles of attrition. Commander Graves tells me that _Hyperion_ takes almost two minutes to re-establish shield coherence, and it takes nearly five minutes to regenerate them to full strength when nearly depleted. Now imagine something like _UNSC Trafalgar_ being caught with its theoretical shields down.”

 

“Yes, I'm starting to see the problem,” Halsey nodded, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “It's similar to why small ships cannot be equipped with slipspace drives, but the other way around.”

 

“Pretty much, yeah.” Cortana agreed.

 

“Any other cheerful thoughts?”

 

“Well, there's this...” Cortana grinned slyly, gesturing with her arm towards the dashboard – a moment later, it was obscured by a myriad holographic windows, all of them filled with lines of code.

 

“What am I looking at, Cortana? I can't make heads nor tails of this.”

 

“A small preview of all the data in _Hyperion's_ hard drives that the good Commander has acquired through scans. There's an astounding amount of information here, mainly concerning anomalous shield generator and FSD behaviour. I've only started digging as of recently, but this data could very well be the key to producing viable prototypes of FSDs and shield generators – if I can crack it.”

 

“I'd best leave you to it, then.” Halsey bid farewell to the AI before turning to address Evangeline. “Commander, if I may have a moment of your time?”

 

“Alright.” The black-haired woman pushed herself upright, following Halsey out from the bridge.

 

* * *

 

 

“So, to what do I owe this visit to?” Evangeline asked the very moment the doors closed.

 

“Just making sure my dear, precocious child isn't giving you any trouble.”

 

“Cute. And the real reason?” Halsey smiled briefly at that, turning to look at the other woman.

 

“I may or may not have heard that you might be given an important mission in the near future.”

 

“Ah. And the _real_ real reason?” The elderly doctor let out a humourless chuckle, stopping in her tracks as she laid a hand on Evangeline's shoulder, her expression deadly serious.

 

“I would tread lightly wherever ONI is involved. Margaret Paragonsky is not a woman to be trifled with.”

 

“You'd think that this would the the time of all times to ignore pettiness and stand united.”

 

“You're not the only one to think so, Commander. But ONI's definition of helping humanity is quite different when compared to what the average person thinks. And they've always been more than a little particular to the 'ends justify the means' mindset.”

 

“Duly noted, doctor. Thanks for the warning.”

 

“Oh, think nothing of it.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Is this intel legit?”

 

“Of course it is, Admiral. We're not the sort to leave things to chance at ONI, as you're well aware.”

 

“Captain, I know you're not happy about it, but my decision is final. You do not have permission to take Commander Graves in for an interrogation.”

 

“With all due respect, sir, we could possibly glean more information via a direct method.”

 

“You just don't get it, do you? That woman has offered her undivided aid to us, and her requests, in turn, have been more than reasonable. But you spooks just see a catch in every offer. My decision remains unchanged. Even if Halsey's AI can't produce anything useful, we'll still have a ship that can fly circles around Covenant fleets.”

 

“It's still just one ship.”

 

“Sometimes, that's all it takes – one ship, or one soldier, in the right place at the right time.”

 

“It's not advisable to bank everything on hope and a prayer.”

 

“At the rate this war is going, Captain, hope and prayers soon will be all we've got.”

 

* * *

 

 

13th of May, 2551

Reach

Station Gamma

 

Over two dozen heads turned to face Evangeline as she entered the briefing room – of the people present, she only recognized Admiral Stanforth, Captain Dare, Sergeant Stacker and his squad of Marines, the latter grinning and giving her a quick wave. The four giants wearing olive-green armour were entirely new to her, though. She couldn't help but feel a little cowed as she saw her tiny reflection in their featureless golden visors.

 

“Commander, thank you for coming on such short notice.” Stanforth offered a handshake, and she gladly accepted the reprieve. “I'm told that your ship is back to full functionality.”

 

“Indeed she is, Admiral. Structural integrity is at one-hundred percent, all damaged electronics have been repaired, and those that aren't do not impair her capabilities in any way.”

 

“Good to hear.” Letting out a brief smile, he turned to address Dare. “Captain, if you would start the briefing.” The ONI operative nodded and booted up the large table-slash-holotank. Moments later, a rotating hologram of a verdant planet winked into existence.

 

“Six days ago, the prowler _UNSC Swordbreaker_ detected a distress signal from a distant tropical world while on a reconnaissance mission. A Covenant distress signal. _Swordbreaker_ went to alert stations, and decided to investigate the world it came from. Upon dispatching a number of Clarion spy drones, a crashed _DAV_ -class light corvette was found to have crash-landed on the planet. Extended surveillance revealed that there are a number of survivors down on the surface, trying to restore their ship to working condition. You are to retrieve any and all valuable data from its computers. This is your secondary objective.”

 

“Then what's the primary objective?” Evangeline queried, and Dare pressed several keys on the holotank's interface.

 

“These.” The image changed to a high-altitude video taken from a drone circling the crash site. The high-performance optics zoomed in on a number of aliens that could best be described as pink boogers. Floating pink boogers, at that.

 

“What are those, exactly?”

 

“See for yourself.” The video flickered, and a new clip began to play, with four of the floating creatures surrounding a flier that was clearly damaged to the point it no longer worked. Nearby, a hunched-over alien clad in armour was obviously getting frustrated, waving its arms at them, possibly shouting, since the pink aliens curled up and refused to move until the aggressor had left. Dare fast-forwarded the footage to a point where the creatures had repaired it, as evidenced by the ill-tempered alien taking to air in it.

 

“Far as we can tell, they're a slave race of some kind. Brilliant with technology, but have no stomach for aggression. Therefore, your primary objective is to retrieve as many of these creatures as possible, but do not return to UNSC space until it has been verified that they have no tracking devices on them. _Swordbreaker_ will remain on station to provide real-time tactical data.”

 

“Well, far as getting there fast and subtle, I can do that, no problem. Even strafing runs, if need be. But the ground segment of this mission clearly requires a level of finesse I really can't achieve on my own.”

 

“That's where I might be able to help you with, Commander.” Stanforth chipped in. “I had to twist a few arms, call in a couple of favours, but I've been successful in acquiring Spartan-II Blue Team for this mission, along with Marine support. They're the best of the best, Commander. For the duration of this mission, they're under your command. Their well-being is your responsibility.”

 

“I will not disappoint you, Admiral.” Evangeline swore determinedly, and Stanforth nodded solemnly.

 

“You need to sell the higher-ups on this, Commander. If this venture goes south, it won't be just my head that'll roll when the dust settles.”

 

“Understood. When do we leave?”

 

“As soon as possible is preferable, but there's no do-overs for this. Put in a requisition order for whatever supplies you need and I'll fast-track it.”

 

“Then we'll go and get ready.”

 

Stanforth nodded and left the room, with Dare on his heels.

 

As the doors shut, there was the shuffling of dozens of boots behind Evangeline. As she turned around, she saw that the two dozen Marines and four Spartan-IIs had assembled, standing at attention.

 

“At ease.” She commanded, and the Marines relaxed somewhat. The four supersoldiers, not quite.

 

“Good to see you again, Sergeant Stacker.” She offered a handshake to the man, who accepted it without hesitation.

 

“Well, the Admiral thought a familiar face would help, or so I understand.”

 

“Either way, you and your men are welcome aboard.” Nodding to the Marine, she moved on, stopping in front of another man bearing the rank of Sergeant, who automatically snapped to attention, crisply saluting her.

 

“Staff Sergeant Avery Junior Johnson, reporting for duty, ma'am!” The dark-skinned man barked.

 

“At ease, Sergeant. Good to have you with us.” Evangeline shook hands with him

 

“From what I've heard on the rumour mill, it seems you have some sort of miracle ship.”

 

“That's correct, Sergeant. You'll be seeing her in just a moment.”

 

“Understood, ma'am.” Johnson nodded as she walked over to the four Spartans.

 

“Master Chief Petty Officer John-117 reporting, Commander.”

 

“Lieutenant, Junior Grade Frederic-104 ready for duty, ma'am.”

 

“Petty Officer Second Class Kelly-087, at your service.”

 

“Petty Officer Second Class Linda-058, reporting.”

 

“At ease, Blue Team.” Evangeline cast a look at each of the supersoldiers before speaking again. “Admiral Stanforth spoke highly of you. I look forward to seeing you in action.”

 

“Thank you, ma'am.” John nodded.

 

“Now, are there any outstanding issues we need to take care of?” She looked over to Stacker and Johnson. “Anyone?”

 

The two Sergeants shook their heads.

 

“Alright, then. Come with me. I'll introduce you to the _Hyperion.”_

 

* * *

 

 

“I gotta admit, it's not quite what I expected.” Johnson was the first to speak as they drew closer to the corvette.

 

“I doubt it's what anyone was expecting, Sergeant.” Evangeline responded, pressing several buttons on her suit's wrist. Almost immediately, the cargo platform began to descend, with the group of near-thirty utilizing it to board the corvette.

 

“Sorry about the cargo crates. I know it looks like they're kind of just spread across the floor, but I gotta make sure that the weight distribution is up to notch.”

 

“What kinda stuff you got in them, ma'am?” Johnson wondered, looking at the hefty containers.

 

“Uh, those ones have palladium, platinum, osmium, praseodymium, iridium. Stuff I mined to upgrade my ship with, once I tracked down the other necessary materials.”

 

“A metric ton of iridium would probably fetch a pretty credit in our markets. Stuff's not exactly commonplace.” Stacker pondered as he scuffed his boot against the floor.

 

“Anyways, those three containers have synthetic meat – it's basically vat-grown meat, but without any bones, tendons, ligaments, and the like. Keeps fresh far longer than a normal dead cow, is a bit more nutritious, and it's much more cost-effective than planetside farming, to boot. There's also five tons of food cartridges onboard.”

 

“Food cartridges, ma'am?” Stacker asked.

 

“Yeah, I have a food printer installed in the common room. I sometimes get a hankering for a pizza, and the food printer can produce just about any kind of meal, so...”

 

“You hear that, Johnson?” Stacker chuckled, turning to face the other Sergeant. “Imagine scarfing down a chocolate cake while sitting in a foxhole, keeping an eye out for Covvies!” Several of the Marines laughed at that.

 

“Mmm, nah. I'd go for a roast beef, personally.” Johnson retorted, also grinning. “Or a nice, big slice of steak.”

 

“Long as you gentlemen clean up after yourselves, you can prepare an entire Christmas feast.”

 

“You've got yourself a deal, ma'am.”

 

“Good. And last, but not least, the last two containers are loaded with tea.”

 

“Tea? What sort?”

 

Twenty-eight heads turned to face the one Spartan who'd chosen to speak.

 

* * *

 

 

For a moment, Linda considered that maybe, just maybe, her query hadn't been the best choice. Luckily, Evangeline didn't prolong the silence and answered the question.

 

“Uh, all kinds. Earl Grey, for when you're in a Picard mood, green tea, peppermint tea, oolong tea, several more, some of which I didn't even know existed. Why, you drink tea?”

 

“Whenever time permits.” She replied laconically.

 

“Well, feel free to make yourself some if you want to. Just make sure to re-seal the container afterwards.”

 

“Understood, ma'am.” The moment of awkwardness, however brief, had passed, and Evangeline resumed the tour of the ship, showing them the crew quarters which provided small, but comfortable housing for forty crew.

 

A quick visit to Engineering was also included, with several Marines being visibly impressed by the hydrogen fusion power plant, which was surprisingly compact when compared to that of a UNSC frigate or cruiser, yet still had an output of nearly seventy megawatts after extensive aftermarket modifications. Many of the ship's components had been heavily upgraded, in fact – the turreted burst lasers were given lightweight mounts, the two multi-cannons stowed behind _Hyperion's_ bridge were outfitted with sophisticated autoloaders that would reload the magazines whenever the guns weren't firing, and the power capacitors for the ship's various systems had exchanged some of the overall capacity for quicker recharge times.

 

Of course, most of the upgrades had been made in pursuit of a better jump range, and were less durable than their unmodified counterparts. As such, the defensive capabilities had also been augmented, its upgraded shield generator and boosters working together to provide a shield envelope that was capable of absorbing of over 1,500 megajoules of energy before breaking.

 

The engines had also been meticulously tuned, providing higher top speeds and better roll, yaw, and pitch rates, while their heat dispersing capabilities had only suffered a minor performance loss.

 

The Marines, for most part, were happy enough to 'ooh' and 'aah' at the highly advanced marvels of engineering presented before them.

 

The Spartans of Blue Team, however, were involved in a conversation that went unheeded by the rest of their companions.

 

“ _So, thoughts on the Commander?”_ Fred was the first to speak across a private channel.

 

“ _She seems friendly enough,”_ Kelly replied, _“Compared to the average UNSC officer, most of whom view us with some degree of suspicion and fear.”_

 

“ _All the same, she has no first-hand experience with the Covenant, despite extensive military service.”_ John added his own opinion. His own outlook on Evangeline Graves was more than a little bleak – seeing the atrocities the Covenant committed against humanity had broken many a man and woman. He wasn't all too enthusiastic on seeing the effect of her witnessing something like the glassing of a planet. Perhaps it would be the catalyst to transforming her into a hardened officer determined to do her duty. Or, more likely, the experience of seeing the alien onslaught would leave her a traumatized husk of what she was.

 

Time would tell, he thought to himself.

 

“ _Then this'll be her chance to prove herself.”_ Linda voiced her thoughts, and that was that.

 

“Cortana, since I'm guessing you've been listening in on us this entire time, could you talk to our Sergeants and Blue Team; find out what kind of gear we'll need? You know – weapons, transport vehicles, and so on and so forth? Send me a list once you're finished, and I'll forward it to Stanforth.”

 

“Can do, Commander.” The aforementioned AI materialised in the middle of the common room.

 

“Nice. I'll be at my quarters; if anyone needs to talk to me, feel free to drop by.”

 

* * *

 

 

Linda looked around the small room that'd been assigned as hers for the time being – a simple bed occupied most of the space, while the rest was taken up by a table and a chair, along with a footlocker that usefully could be moved under the bed. All in all, this wasn't the worst place to sleep in. If she'd had the time, technicians and tools for it, she would've removed her armour and taken a power nap without any problems.

 

However, there was the issue of a pack of Darjeeling tea that was burning a hole in her pocket - she'd snagged it while everyone was busy securing a number of Warthogs to the cargo bay's floor and loading the ship's armoury up with UNSC weaponry. And, frustratingly enough, she wasn't quite able to pinpoint the reason for doing so.

 

“ _All hands, prepare for take-off.”_ Cortana's disembodied voice came through the intercom, and Linda quickly stashed the pack inside one of the drawers before making her way to the common room.

 

* * *

 

 

Johnson turned his head to look at Evangeline as she was scrolling through a long list of folders on a holographic screen while waiting for _Hyperion_ to leave Station Gamma's mass-lock radius. “What's that?”

 

“Oh, just choosing some music to listen to, if it's not a problem.”

 

“What do you have in mind?”

 

“Something... classic, I think.” Evangeline grinned as she made a choice. A moment passed before loud heavy metal music began to pour from the speakers.

 

_Hey-ho out there, you motherfuckers_  
_Here we're back again_  
 _For some we are the heroes_  
 _For some, a pestilence_

 

As if on cue, a number of complains began to emanate through the intercom as the rest of the Marines vocalized their displeasure. Johnson, for his part, was briefly speechless, before he grinned widely, clearly approving.

 

_Playing fast and loud_  
_Nobody can ignore_  
 _Our old school heavy metal_  
 _That's what we're living for_

 

“Ah, music to my ears...” He sighed contently, leaning back in his seat.

 

“What, the song or their complaints?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You know what? I think we're going to get along just fine.” She chuckled as the 'MASS-LOCKED' light winked out on the interface.

 

“Amen to that.”

 

* * *

 

 

Stanforth let out a great sigh as he saw the tell-tale flash of light signifying the _Hyperion's_ departure.

 

“Evangeline...” He muttered out loud to nobody in particular. The meaning of the name was 'good news', which was very much apropos, considering the gifts she brought with her. If there ever was need of proof that they were all part of a greater cosmic joke, this would be it.

 


	4. Apocalypse Maybe Later

“Alright, next question.”

 

“ _What's the fastest speed you've ever flown at, and what's the top speed of this ship?”_

 

“That's two questions, Jenkins. But I am a generous god. The fastest I've ever gone is a little over 1000Cs – C stands for speed of light, by the way. And max speed in supercruise is 2000C for all FSD-equipped starships.”

 

“ _Whoa...”_ Jenkins was understandably more than a little awed.

 

“At that speed, it takes 4 hours and 23 minutes to cover one light-year,” Cortana added to the conversation. “which is still faster than what any UNSC vessel can manage.”

 

“ _Damn, I'd hate to see how our Navy would fare against yours. You'd have us chasing shadows.”_

 

“But we don't have giant 'fuck off' coilguns as main weapons, though. I've read the specs on them, and I'm absolutely sure they'd destroy anything we could field.”

 

“ _That's if the Navy boys can get a bead on you. Our ships ain't exactly the most agile, whereas yours are like bees fed with meth and avgas in comparison.”_

 

“That's a weird analogy, Private. Alright, next question.”

 

“ _What's the weirdest thing you've ever encountered while flying?”_ Evangeline recognised Kelly's voice issuing from the intercom.

 

“Well, there was one pirate named Bob Ross – all I could think of was 'happy little Sidewinders' - but I don't think anything can top being interdicted by a Diamondback Explorer-flying pirate, who comes at you, foaming at the mouth as he demands that you drop your 32 tons of containers filled with literal shit.”

 

The laughter that followed her words was deafening.

 

“Okay, anyone else?” She asked again once her listeners quieted down.

 

“ _What's the furthest you've ever gone from inhabited space?”_ Fred's voice poured from the speakers.

 

“A little over 42,000 light-years from Sol.”

 

More than one Marine let out an impressed whistle.

 

“For comparison, the first real road trip I took was in a Cobra MkIII, to Maia system in Pleiades Nebula, which was about 400 light-years away. After that, once I'd gotten some more experience and a better ship, it was to Horsehead Nebula, with the path also taking me to Witch Head Nebula, Orion Nebula, and Barnard's Loop. Fifteen-hundred light-years each way. Funny thing is, on the planet I landed on before making the return trip, I came across a number of containers with various goods in them.”

 

“ _Salvage from a crashed ship?”_

 

“No, that's the best part.” Evangeline grinned. “Someone had actually put them there, and gone to the trouble of putting several skimmer drones to guard them! In deep space!” This time, she laughed with her crew.

 

“ _It takes all kinds then, huh?”_ Stacker quipped.

 

“I guess it does, Sergeant. Okay, are there any more questions?”

 

“ _What do you consider your most life-changing moment? Well, besides the part where you arrived here from a different universe.”_ John asked.

 

Evangeline was quiet for several moments before answering. “Well, after my first trip to Sagittarius A, I jumped up, above the galaxy, as far as I could. Landed my ship on the closest planet, went on a spacewalk on top of the hull... and there it was. The entire galaxy, laid at my feet. It is not a feeling I can describe.”

 

“Sounds beautiful, ma'am.” Johnson chuckled softly.

 

“Believe me, it is. Hell, if we get a couple of weeks of free time after this mission, might be you'll get the chance to see for yourself.”

 

“I think I'd like that, ma'am.”

 

* * *

 

It was ten minutes later that _Hyperion_ was making its final approach to their target – due to how an FSD worked, it locked onto the most massive object in a system, mostly a star, before jumping. As a result, they'd ended up a little over zero-point-one light-years from their actual target, which had given them plenty of time to chat. Now, however, it was time for action – Stacker's and Johnson's squads had relocated themselves to the cargo bay, preparing for the impending mission.

 

“Cortana, do you have the topographic data from _Swordbreaker?”_

 

“I do, ma'am.”

 

“Find us a level enough clearing where we can land. Preferably, it should be within an hour's driving distance, or less. If not, well, I'll just make a landing zone.”

 

“Aye-aye.” Less than a second passed before the AI spoke again. “Done. Landing zone has been marked on your HUD.”

 

“Appreciate it.” Activating the intercom, she addressed the crew. “Alright, ladies and gentlemen, this is it! Hold onto your asses, because it's going to be a bumpy ride!”

 

* * *

 

 

The two dozen Marines had performed numerous combat drops before, in Pelicans, which had no energy shielding or superluminal capabilities to speak of. Therefore, the spacious cargo bay was a welcome change.

 

The incessant _drrrrrrrnnnnnn_ of the FSD, however, was less welcome, its unnerving noise changing pitch and frequency as _Hyperion_ performed a slingshot manoeuvre around the planet a mere couple hundred of kilometres above its surface.

 

“ _We'll be dropping down to a glide at twenty-five kilometre altitude, a hundred kilometres out or less. And it looks like there's a rainstorm in the path. Well, at least our approach is less likely to be noticed.”_

 

“Understood, ma'am.” Stacker replied, casting a look across the cargo bay – the Marines were busily checking and rechecking their weapons and equipment, including the four Warthogs belted down to the floor.

 

“ _Brace yourselves, people. Leaving supercruise in ten.”_

 

Following her command, everyone grabbed hold of anything they could.

 

“ _...five, four, three, two, one, mark.”_ There was a muffled thump and the ship became near-silent, save for the muted creaks and shudders of its hull as it gently rocked from side to side. _“And we're gliding. Sixty-eight kilometres out and counting.”_

 

* * *

 

 

“Ma'am, I know you're a skilled pilot and everything, but I can't help but feel that we're going to pancake against the ground.” Johnson uneasily muttered as he heard yet another series of creaks reverberate through the floor, gazing through the windows at the thick, ominous rainclouds far ahead of them.

 

“If it makes you feel better, I was just as nervous on my first planetary landing. Ended up aborting the glide and boosting intermittently the remaining fifty kilometres to the outpost.”

 

“So, are there failsafes of any kind?”

 

“Well, the glide will disengage of it's too steep, or shallow, or when you reach an altitude of about seven kilometres. You also can't, by accident or willingly, ram yourself into any stellar body while in supercruise.”

 

“Well, that puts my mind at ease.”

 

_Hyperion_ shook about, its speed dropping from 2,500 metres per second to a more modest 250, 'GLIDE COMPLETE' flashing across one of the holographic displays.

 

“There we go...” Evangeline smiled as she expertly manoeuvred her ship towards the lush planet's surface. “I still got it. Alright, Johnson, if you want to get down to the cargo bay, now's the time. Get ready to disembark.”

 

“Aye-aye, ma'am.”

 

* * *

 

 

The very moment _Hyperion_ touched down, the cargo platform began to descend as the Marines undid the Warthogs' restraints before climbing aboard.

 

“ _You guys mind if I tag along?”_ Everyone's heads turned to see a second, smaller hatch open on _Hyperion's_ belly, dropping a six-wheeled vehicle that quickly wheeled about, revealing Evangeline seated inside a transparent cockpit.

 

“What's it do?” Stacker asked from his position in the passenger seat of the first of two M831 TTs.

 

“ _A little over 115 kilometres per hour, has energy shielding and a dual plasma repeater turret, can climb up cliffs while carrying two tons of cargo strapped to its ass. Oh, and it has jump jets.”_

 

“Fancy stuff.”

 

“ _Well, on planets with low enough gravity, it lets me re-enact that one scene from_ Armageddon _, so it's all good.”_

 

“I don't think anyone here's going to decline extra firepower, ma'am.”

 

“ _Neat. So, just a heads up - whatever you guys say, goes. If I tried to boss you around when the gunfire starts, things would probably go south very fast.”_

 

“I don't see how they can, not this time. We have Spartans with us. The Covvies are already dead, they just don't know it.”

 

“ _I guess we'll get to see UNSC taxpayers' money at work, eh?”_

 

“You better believe it, ma'am.”

 

“ _Cortana, I'm handing control of the ship over to you. Keep an eye out for any kind of trouble. We'll call if we need fire support.”_

 

“ _Understood, Commander.”_

 

* * *

 

 

“...one thing you need to understand is that to the average Imperial Citizen, honour is very important.” Evangeline spoke, the word 'Robigo' still bouncing around in her mind. “For them to live with a debt they cannot pay is very dishonourable. Thus, they'll sign a contract to put themselves into indentured servitude to pay their debts off. Once their contract ends, they're free to go.”

 

“Still seems like a system that could be abused.” Fred quipped from his place in the lead 'Hog's turret as the convoy rolled along through the undergrowth at a brisk pace.

 

“Actually, an Imperial slaver is kept under scrutiny at all times. To even start working as a slaver requires a lot of funding and a mountain of paperwork. Furthermore, any and all abuse or mistreatment of slaves is a grave offense. After all, a healthy and motivated slave will work with more dedication than an abused one.”

 

“That seems almost... alright?”

 

“When compared to Federal hypocrites who'll decry Imperial slavery while buying slaves on the down low? Yeah, it kinda is.”

 

“So what about the Alliance?”

 

“Well, what's mostly keeping them together is that they don't want either the Empire or Federation telling them how to live. Each system provides the Alliance Police Forces with some of their ships to patrol Alliance territories...”

 

* * *

 

 

“Kelly, we're getting close to the crash site. Go ahead with Linda and get us an accurate headcount.” John ordered his squadmates.

 

“Understood, Chief.” The two Spartans disembarked and almost immediately took off at a blistering speed.

 

“Whoa!” Evangeline exclaimed in surprise. “How are you running that fast?!”

 

“ _We ate our veggies and drank our milk.”_ Kelly replied flippantly before she and Linda disappeared from view.

 

“With you people, I'd believe just about anything.” She chuckled before addressing John. “So, I guess now we wait for them to report back to us?”

 

“Affirmative, Commander.”

 

“Well, could we do it somewhere else? I'm really not liking the look of that ravine right next to us. All this rain's not helping, either. We're not quite yet at _rasputitsa_ levels of undrivable, but I'd rather not tempt fate.”

 

John cast a look around, finding himself agreeing with Evangeline – while a Warthog was an all-terrain vehicle, it wouldn't do much good to get caught in a landslide, moreso considering the rainstorm hadn't let up ever since they'd landed.

 

“Understood, Commander.”

 

Pretty soon, the convoy was moving along once more, with Evangeline taking point in the Scarab SRV, being that it weighed the least, and would upset the ground less.

 

Jenkins let out a low whistle as he leaned out from his seat, taking a peek down the bush-covered ravine. He couldn't even begin to guess at how far down it went. However, his train of thought was interrupted as Murphy's Law caught up to them and kicked a lump of dirt out from the 'Hog's front right wheel, causing it to sharply tilt to the side. The driver, Bisenti, immediately gunned the throttle, twisting the steering wheel to the left, which led to the ill-ballanced Jenkins to topple from his position, right down the ravine.

 

“Jenkins!” Bisenti cried out, slamming the handbrake. “Sarge, Jenkins fell out! We gotta find him!” That idea was quickly shot down as everyone saw more ground crumbling away.

 

“ _Damn it, we gotta book it if we don't want to join Jenkins!”_ Evangeline cursed over SQUADCOM, sending the Scarab's wheels spinning as she floored its throttle, the Warthogs following after her. They didn't stop until cresting a small hill.

 

“Jenkins, can you hear me? Report!” Johnson barked into his mic as he jumped out from his Warthog. “Jenkins!”

 

Static issued from his earpiece and he cursed.

 

“Goddammit!”

 

* * *

 

 

“Shit...” Jenkins groaned as he rolled on his side, sore from having struck several sharp rocks that undoubtedly would've gored him if it weren't for his armour. With a grunt, he pulled himself upright, tugging at his helmet's strap and examining it for damage, his heart falling through the bottom of his stomach as he saw a sharp rock lodged in its side. The helmet had most certainly saved him from an unwanted trepanning, but its COM unit had taken the worst of it.

 

“Double shit...” He muttered before pulling the rock out, putting the helmet back on, and examining the steep ravine he'd just tumbled down from. Climbing was out of question – he was lucky enough that he still was in one piece, and trying to scale it would just be tempting fate. His best bet at the moment was to find a place where he could safely climb up, retrace his way to where he'd fallen, and hopefully follow the tracks left by their convoy. If he couldn't, he was SOL.

 

Snatching up his BR55 from where it'd fallen, he set off at a slight jog through the waterlogged terrain.

 

* * *

 

 

The mood was decidedly somber as Kelly and Linda returned to them, bearing news.

 

“There's sixty-three hostiles on the ground, probably more inside the wreckage. They've set up a number of weapons emplacements, and have snipers in concealed positions.” Linda reported.

 

“Concealed by their definition of the word.” Kelly quipped. “Far as Linda's concerned, they might've as well been wearing fluorescent purple. Well, I mean, most of the time they do, but that's beside the point.”

 

“Alright, Chief, how do we do this?” Evangeline asked from her position inside the Scarab.

 

“Who here is good at sniping?” The Spartan turned towards the awaiting Marines, and three raised their hands. “Good. Get the spare sniper rifles and go with her.” He gestured towards Linda. “You'll pick off the turret operators and anyone else with long-range weapons, or grenades they're trying to throw. And I think you can guess what to do with the Covenant who seem to be in command.”

 

There was a chorus of 'aye-aye' as the chosen Marines exchanged their MA5Bs for the mainstay of UNSC sharpshooter teams, the SRS 99 Anti-Materiel sniper rifle.

 

“Fred, take the rest, and perform a frontal assault. Commander, it'll be your duty to cover their advance. You said your vehicle has shields and a plasma weapon? Draw as much attention as you can. Fred's team will be the more obvious and easy target during this attack.”

 

“What about me, Chief?” Kelly raised her voice.

 

“You will flank them from the right. I'll take the left flank.”

 

“Understood, Chief.” The Spartan nodded, racking her shotgun.

 

“Alright. Let's move out.” The order was given.

 

* * *

 

 

He was fucked - so irreversibly, inescapably fucked, Jenkins miserably thought as he curled up against a tree, trying, with all his might, to unjam his battle rifle.

 

It was no use. The Covenant patrol would be upon him soon. He could already hear their footsteps and alien chattering. With a shaky hand, he reached down to his belt, curling his fingers around a grenade that lay there.

 

The least he could do was to take down as many as he could.

 

As he thumbed the ring and prepared to sign his fate, he felt a hand close around his, preventing him from throwing the grenade. It was very much to his credit that he didn't shout in alert. Wide-eyed, he turned to look, seeing a big, broad-shouldered Marine kneeling at his side, looking at him with a pair of friendly eyes.

 

“Wait,” he said in a low voice. “If the Covvies want to tangle, now they'll have two to deal with.”

 

Jenkins let out a nervous sigh in relief, suddenly much more optimistic about his odds. “Well, thanks a lot. I'm Jenkins. Wallace Jenkins. What's your name?”

 

The Marine picked Jenkins' weapon up, ejecting the mag and working the bolt several times before reloading the rifle and handing it back to Jenkins.

 

“The boys just call me Camouflage.”

 

* * *

 

 

Shipmaster Vamel 'Akrinee was in a particularly foul mood today. Which wasn't much different from what it'd been ever since their ship, _The Errant Wind,_ had crashed on this planet. It'd been two weeks, and the Huragok were still at work, making repairs. Any attempt to impart urgency to them was fruitless as they scared easily. If he didn't know any better, he'd say they were purposefully delaying. Truth be told, he sometimes itched to gun one of them down, even though he would never do such a thing as harming a creation of Forerunners. Any of his men would turn on him for such a blasphemous act, and he'd meet a heretic's end.

 

Though he knew it foolish to indulge in such laughable thoughts, he wished that the ship had seen it fit to crash on a world where the prey they hunted for food didn't send a Sangheili to a foaming-at-the-mouth death. Foraging produced similar results in the shape of horrific seizures at worst, or terrifying diarrhoea that had even his most veteran soldiers howling for a quick death as they purged their bowels at best. It soon turned out that the rainwater was the only thing not poisonous to them. Thus, it'd been decided to carefully ration their shipboard foodstuffs as they waited for the Huragok to carry out their repairs. Or, failing that, wait for a rescue.

 

However, he never found out if anyone ever responded to their signal, on the account of four 14.5mm bullets that turned his head into minced meat.

 

* * *

 

 

Linda had chosen the next target before the casing had even left the chamber – a split-second later, her rifle boomed again, splattering the brains of a Jackal toting a beam rifle. The last two bullets found two Grunts tumbling from their turrets. The three marines were a bit slower in choosing and eliminating their targets, but they were performing admirably all the same, their gunfire bringing two Elites down.

 

At the very same moment, Fred gave the order to charge, the two squads of Marines backed by the two machine-gun equipped Warthogs spraying a storm of lead against the Covenant positions. Evangeline roared past them in the Scarab, inaccurate plasma fire splashing against its shields as she poured an equally-inaccurate dose of plasma back at them, the speedy vehicle bouncing wildly across the terrain.

 

Chief and Kelly were circling around, both Spartans using the overall confusion to remain undetected. It wasn't until cries of agony and explosions rose into the air that they made their presence known as the Covenant found themselves in a fight for their lives.

 

* * *

 

 

Jenkins ducked back into cover, a flurry of plasma bolts whizzing past his cover as he reloaded his weapon. At his side, Camouflage rose to his knees, spraying precise bursts into the Covenant, scything down a pair of Grunts out in the open.

 

He didn't know what to think, honestly. Every time a Covvie shot at Camouflage, the bolts always seemed to miss, even though he could've sworn seeing more than one bolt going right through the big Marine's body. Yet his ally continued to fight, none worse for the wear.

 

The remaining Elite, angered at seeing his underlings dying, primed a plasma grenade, lobbing it at their enemies. Jenkins, still in traction, only could watch dumbly as the burning sphere sailed through the air towards them...

 

...only for it to be swatted away by Camouflage, who treated the deadly projectile with as much care as a fly. As luck would have it, the grenade ended up stuck to the Elite's helmet, who only had time to roar in surprise before being vaporised. What few Grunts remained went into panic, yelping as they ran off.

 

“I think it's high time we beat feet, Jenkins. I get the feeling they don't like us too much.”

 

“No, you think?” Jenkins chortled as he took off after his companion.

 

* * *

 

 

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuc-” Evangeline cursed as she frantically reversed, flinching as the iridescent green beam of energy whizzed past, mere meters from her windshield. With her shields down, that blast would've been the death of her. “Shit shit shit shit shit! CORTANA!”

 

“ _Still here, Commander.”_

 

“I've got a pair of targets for you! Get over here and turn them into confetti!”

 

“ _Aye-aye, ma'am. Hyperion's ETA is thirty seconds.”_

 

Still cursing her mouth off, Evangeline gunned the throttle and the thrusters, lifting the Scarab several meters into air, dodging yet another blast of energy. Kicking up plumes of mud, she feverishly manoeuvred her way out of the big, shield-toting aliens' line of sight.

 

Where had it all gone so wrong, she wondered? Linda and her sniper team were expertly keeping the Covenant suppressed, for most part, eliminating anyone that tried to be brave. Kelly and Chief were making a mess of their flanks, while Fred led their Marines with enviable efficiency, calling out near-constant orders that had limited their casualties to plasma burns from near misses.

 

And then the two, big, heavily-armoured aliens had lumbered outside from the wreck, crumpling a couple of Grunts under their heavy feet and one had sent the Scarab cartwheeling across the battlefield with a precision shot, while the other kept Fred's team suppressed. Even Linda couldn't neutralize them – though the first few shots had drawn blood, the creatures had soon figured out where the shots were coming from, and held their shields accordingly.

 

“ _Air support inbound. Just sit back and relax.”_ Cortana announced cheerfully, and moments later, bright red laser bolts began to pepper the ground around the armoured creatures. Sensing the new threat, they turned to fire at the incoming Condors, but at that range, they would've had more luck shooting down a mosquito with a Bofors.

 

“Yeah, you'll have to try again, Cortana!” Evangeline shouted as the two remote-controlled fighters soared above them, fast and low, before boosting as they effortlessly climbed at a 90-degree angle.

 

In lieu of an answer, Cortana simply fired the class-4 multi-cannons as the corvette closed the distance, sending a withering barrage of 125mm high-explosive shells in the hulking aliens' direction. This time, her attack bore fruits – with devastating effects. The aliens had been able to shrug off supersonic sniper rounds and frag grenades, but when met with munitions meant for shredding ship-grade armour plating, they didn't stand even the slightest of chances as the brief burst turned them into a sloppy puddle of orange blood and scrap metal.

 

Even Chief had to admit – the ship was a sight to behold, as it swooped above them elegantly, engines rumbling. None of the Marines held back as they cheered, drinking in the sight of its impressive armament on full display, the laser turrets sweeping across what few stragglers remained.

 

It was when the lasers finally stopped firing that Evangeline heard orchestral music blaring from her SRV's speakers.

 

“Ride of the Valkyries, Cortana? Really?”

 

“ _I thought it apropos.”_

 

“Hey, I don't mind. You've got a good taste in music.”

 

“ _You flatter me so, Commander-Wait! We have two inbound fliers!”_

 

There was a brief burst of lasfire and moments later, a pair of burning wrecks fell from the sky.

 

“ _Make that none.”_

 

* * *

 

 

“They really love the colour pink, don't they?” Evangeline wondered aloud as she crept through a poorly-lit hallway, Blue Team in tow. Stacker and Johnson were left to secure as many working examples of Covenant weaponry and equipment as they could find, and load it onboard _Hyperion._

 

Kelly muttered something to the effect of 'fifty shades of pink' and chuckled quietly.

 

“We've got movement. Thirty metres ahead, through the door on the right.” Fred announced, and in an instant, they brought their weapons to bear.

 

“Hostile?” Chief queried.

 

“Unknown. I have five signals, maybe more, on my tracker. Doesn't seem like they've set up a defensive position. If anything, they're grouped tightly together.”

 

“Sounds like those things Captain Dare briefed us on, but let's not take any chances.” Evangeline checked the compact laser carbine in her hands.

 

“Agreed, Commander. Fred, Kelly, you stack up on the right side of the door. Linda and I will take the left.” Making nary a noise, the four Spartans formed up around the doorway before Fred toggled the activation rune in the middle.

 

As they rushed inside, weapons brought to bear, they were greeted by a chorus of alarmed whistles from the seven creatures clustered together in the middle of the room.

 

“Easy, people! They're not hostile, remember?” Evangeline warned as she joined the Spartans, her own weapon slung over her shoulder, arms held up in a placating manner as she slowly stepped towards the alien. “Relax,” she said with a soothing voice, hoping her tone would calm the creatures. “We're not going to hurt you, or your friends.”

 

Surprisingly, the alien seemed to understand her, becoming less agitated as it craned its head towards her, letting out a curious whistle as its fellows calmed down.

 

“See?” She chuckled, turning to face Blue Team. “Totally harmless.” Just as quickly, she whirled around again, as the alien plucked the life support unit from her back, scrutinising it with trance-like concentration.

 

“Hey! Don't touch that! You might...” Her protest died off as the alien, having finished its inspection, took the compact device apart with lightning speed, its four tentacles splitting into a myriad, needle-like cilia as it probed the various components before reassembling it just as quickly. With a cheery whistle, it handed the unit back to Evangeline, clearly waiting for her to put it back on.

 

“...Break that.” She finished dumbly, locking the device back into its place. A quick diagnostics check revealed that the efficiency of its power cell had been tripled, and the OS reacted noticeably faster to all input.

 

“Wow. Thanks.”

 

The alien let out another friendly whistle in return.

 

“You wanna come with us?”

 

* * *

 

 

“You know, if you'd told me that we'd get a bunch of Covenant to join us by simply asking nicely, I'd have laughed myself into a coma.” Kelly quipped as they exited the wreckage, the seven aliens trailing after them, letting out excited chirps and whistles.

 

“Well, they're not like the rest of them, are they?” Came the reply from Evangeline, and the Spartan had to concede the point.

 

“True enough, I suppose. I'm still not quite sure about taking them back to Reach, though.”

 

“Which is why we'll jump to somewhere remote and check them and our loot for all manners of tracking devices.”

 

“What place did you have in mind, ma'am?”

 

“How does Pleiades Nebula sound?” Evangeline grinned.

 

* * *

 

 

“There it is! There's _Hyperion!”_ Jenkins exclaimed happily as he and Camouflage walked through the jungle. Sure enough, the corvette could be seen through the treeline, having landed near its Covenant counterpart.

 

“See? Told you we wouldn't get lost.” Camouflage replied calmly.

 

“I am so buying you drinks for the rest of my life, man! Let's go!” Jenkins took off, eager to be reunited with his friends. It took him a moment to realise he didn't hear Camouflage's steps behind him. Confused, he slowed down, turning around to beckon his companion to follow. “Come on, don't you want to...” He trailed off as he saw neither hide nor hair of Camouflage. “Leave this place?” He finished lamely. It was as if the big Marine had just vanished into thin air. A sudden chill came over him and he resumed his jog, faster than before.

 

* * *

 

 

“Commander, there's someone approaching us.” Linda announced, raising her sniper rifle to her eyes, staring through the scope for a moment before speaking again. “It's Private Jenkins.”

 

“Jenkins?!” Johnson stood up a la alerted meerkat, frowning as he saw the distant figure break from the treeline, sprinting towards them, rifle held high in one hand. “That crazy fool's alive?”

 

“It would seem so.” Linda replied, letting him take a look through the sniper rifle's scope.

 

“Well, split my jaw open and call me an Elite, that _is_ him!” The Sergeant grinned widely. “That punk must be insanely lucky if he didn't break his neck during that tumble.”

 

As the Private drew closer, it soon became clear that he wasn't all that unharmed – his helmet sported a nasty crack on its right side, he was covered in dirt and soaked to the bone, to boot. To top it all off, he looked like he'd seen a ghost.

 

“Jenkins!” Johnson barked once the Marine was within hearing range. “You alright? Any Covvies following you?”

 

“Uh, I don't think so...” The Marine replied distractedly as he jogged up to him..

 

“You think so or you know so?”

 

“Sarge, I saw something really weird happen back there, and I'd totally like to tell you all about it, but I'd appreciate if we did it while as far away from this planet as possible.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I knew a guy calling himself Camouflage.” Stacker spoke up once Jenkins had finished his explanation. “Never told anyone his actual name, so the nickname stuck. Kinda ironic, being that he was the tallest damn Marine I'd ever seen.”

 

“What happened to him?”

 

“Died of a plasma bolt to the chest. 'Semper Fi' was the last thing he said before passing away.” Stacker fished out a pair of dog tags from a pouch on his waist before tossing them to Jenkins. “Here. Call me superstitious, but I get the feeling that he'd want you to have them now.”

 

Jenkins caught them, taking a close look – the two small metal plates on the chain had been warped from intense heat, but the UNSC insignia could still be made out. He nodded quietly and pocketed the tags.

 

_Woah-oh-oh-oh, Camouflage_  
_Things are never quite the way they seem_  
_Woah-oh-oh-oh, Camouflage_  
_I was awfully glad to see this big Marine_

 

It took a moment for everyone present to realise that it'd been Evangeline who'd sung the words – they turned to look at the woman, who was thoughtfully looking at the ground, arms crossed.

 

“Commander?” Jenkins asked uncertainly.

 

“Cortana, plot a course to Maia System, Pleiades Nebula.” With that, the black-haired woman departed for the bridge, leaving the Marines to scratch their heads in confusion. Johnson was the first to speak.

 

“You know what? I think I'll be giving that food printer a try.”

 


	5. Blow into the space breathalyzer, please

“What's with them bottles you got there, ma'am?” Johnson piped up as Evangeline entered the common room.

 

“Oh, these?” The woman in question set the two bottles down on the table, the amber liquid inside them sloshing about. “Lavian Brandy. Thought I'd break out the good stuff, considering that our mission was a success.”

 

“Is it any good?” Stacker inquired.

 

“Oh, you better believe it, Sergeant.” Evangeline replied, rummaging through the shelves for shot glasses. “Blue Team, shall I pour you some, too?” She addressed the taciturn Spartans keeping to themselves in the corner of the room.

 

“I'll have one.” Kelly announced, stepping forward as she removed her helmet.

 

“Kelly-” Fred objected, but was just as quickly interrupted by his fellow Spartan.

 

“Come off it, Fred. What's just one drink going to do?”

 

“The same has been said about so many things I'd die of old age before I could recount them all.” Fred deadpanned.

 

“The Commander's got a point, you know.” John suddenly announced. “We triumphed against a numerically superior enemy, took no losses, and recovered assets that might just be what we need to let the Navy make themselves some breathing space. I'd say that warrants a celebration, no matter how small.”

 

“You both are awful.” Fred let out a resigned chuckle, slipping his helmet off as well. “Count me in.” He moved to Kelly's side, followed by Linda and John, waiting patiently as Evangeline filled up the twenty-nine glasses.

 

“Here's to us, ladies and gentlemen!” Evangeline announced cheerfully before downing her drink, followed by everyone else.

 

“Damn, that's some tough stuff...” O'Brien exclaimed, thumping his chest as he set his glass down.

 

“Hits like a brick, doesn't it?” Evangeline chuckled as she felt the potent brew course through her. “If you feel like you can deal with the hangover, feel free to help yourselves to more. I'm off to check up on our guests.”

 

* * *

 

“No.”

 

The aliens paused, turning to look at the source of the voice.

 

“That,” Evangeline pointed at the power plant. “Is the ship's reactor. It supplies electricity to everything onboard, life support and gravity included. _No.”_ She sternly repeated, much like she would to to a dog trying – and failing – to not appear guilty.

 

The floating aliens let out a sullen whistle and drifted away from the thrumming power plant.

 

“Look, you can take it apart once it's offline and we're docked in a space station. Until then, no touching. _Capisce?”_

 

The creatures nodded.

 

“Alright. Now, Cortana,” Evangeline looked towards one of the terminals. “Have they made all the weapons and equipment we collected untraceable?”

 

“Far as I can tell, yes.” The AI's avatar popped into existence. “I've been running all manners of scans and can find no outbound signals. Well, ones that I can detect, at least. All the same, the Huragok assure me that they are perfectly safe to take back to Reach.”

 

“The what, now?”

 

“Huragok. It's what they call themselves.”

 

“Wait, you can talk to them?” Evangeline frowned.

 

“Every single one of them is some sort of a biological supercomputer. Of course I can talk to them.”

 

“And I am learning of this only now because...?”

 

“Well, you seemed like you were having fun back there, and far be it for me to ruin it.”

 

“Cortana...” Evangeline sighed, rubbing her forehead in an attempt to stave off her frustration.

 

“Sorry!” The AI at least had the decency to look half-guilty.

 

“Just don't do that again.”

 

“Do you want to pinkie swear on it?”

 

Evangeline sighed.

 

* * *

 

“Reach Station Gamma, this is _Hyperion,_ requesting docking clearance.” Cortana announced, her mood buoyant as the corvette gracefully approached the station.

 

“ _Hyperion, this is Station Gamma Flight Control. Clearance granted, approach Hangar Bay Five.”_

 

“Understood, Flight Control.” Cortana responded curtly.

 

“Well, I'll be...” Johnson chuckled triumphantly, all but punching the air. “We flew out, kicked Covenant ass, and got back just in time for supper! This has been the weirdest day in my life, but I ain't complaining!”

 

“And we're the select few to have gone where no UNSC ship has gone before.” Cortana added helpfully.

 

“Well, Admiral Stanforth did say we need to wow the Powers That Be.” Evangeline joined the conversation. “I doubt everyone will be all that eager to replace technology that's served them faithfully for centuries.”

 

“Sticking to one's guns, as it were. An otherwise admirable trait.” Cortana nodded dourly.

 

“Except this time, it'd cost UNSC lives, ships, and planets.” Evangeline sighed. “And it's clear that they can ill afford such losses. They'll be desperate for an edge.”

 

“So we milk that desperation for all it's worth.”

 

“That's what I'm planning to do.” Evangeline nodded. “Probably won't be easy. Then again, nothing worthwhile ever is.”

 

“Words to live by.”

 

* * *

 

 Stanforth was already waiting for them as the cargo platform came to a halt, hitting the hangar's floor with a clang.

 

“I have to admit, Commander, seeing your ship return was like a weight taken off my chest.” The veteran officer spoke, his eyes narrowing slightly as he turned his gaze to the alien creatures. “It would seem that your mission was a success.”

 

“It was, Admiral. Captain Dare's intel was underestimating their tech savvy – the creatures neutralized any and all tracking devices from the Covenant weapons and equipment we retrieved, and carried out several improvements to the shipboard devices, despite their complete unfamiliarity with _Hyperion's_ systems.”

 

“Most impressive.” Stanforth nodded.

 

“So, what's the next step, Admiral?”

 

“Well, I'm going to write up a report, send it to Earth, and hope the brass don't ream me too hard for violating Cole Protocol. In the meanwhile, keep working on those blueprints with Cortana. Just keep those aliens contained to the ship. Or this hangar, at the very least. Don't need them wandering off and scaring those out of the loop.”

 

“Can do, Admiral.”

 

* * *

 

“...hey, and feel free to drop by whenever you can. Just let me know beforehand, and we can talk all about music.” Johnson grinned at that, exchanging a firm handshake with Evangeline.

 

“You've got yourself a deal, ma'am.” With that, he joined the rest of the departing Marines.

 

“Hey, when's the wedding, Sarge?” One Marine suggested jokingly.

 

“I should box your ears for that kind of disrespectful talk, Private-” The rest of Johnson's rant became an indistinct noise as they left the hangar.

 

“Commander.”

 

“Linda. How can I help you?” Evangeline turned to face the Spartan sniper, who wordlessly extended a hand towards her, a tinfoil pack held in the Spartan's grasp. “Um. Okay?”

 

“I took it before the mission, when no-one wasn't looking. It wasn't my place to do so.” Linda felt embarrassed. Spartans didn't get embarrassed, did they?

 

“Well, I did say that you can take some if you wanted to, didn't I? Don't worry, no harm done.” Evangeline patted the Spartan's armoured shoulder before hopping onboard the cargo platform. “See ya, space cowboy.”

 

Linda stared at the platform as it retracted back into _Hyperion's_ hull, then at the pack in her hand, and then at Kelly, who was trying to appear as innocent as she could.

 

* * *

 

17th of May

Reach

Station Gamma

 

* * *

 

“There we go, nice and easy.” Evangeline grunted as she carefully eased the laser focusing array out from the laser turret's housing, two Huragok expertly disconnecting its power cables. With exceeding care, they set the hefty piece down on a sheet of cloth spread out nearby.

 

One of the Huragok gave her a questioning whistle, and she looked at the small display strapped to her forearm where a string of words had appeared as Cortana's translation program set to work.

 

“Hermetically sealed, yeah. Otherwise, there's always some micro-debris that's just waiting to get inside and make a mess of the focusing crystals.” She answered, examining the sturdy casing. “Also, has to be filled with an inert gas, because oxygen burns and stuff. Helium or neon, preferably. Cortana, please put in an order for a couple of tanks of helium, would you?”

 

“ _Can do, Commander.”_ Came the reply from her wrist-mounted pad as she pulled a wrench from the tool belt on her waist. With practised motions, she undid the bolts holding the lid in place. There was a quiet hiss of gas as she lifted it up, revealing the innards of the sophisticated device. Immediately, her two companions floated closer, whistling curiously as they gently probed the various components.

 

“I'll leave you two to it, then.” She stood up, jogging across the hull to the rear of _Hyperion_ , where another pair of Huragok were busying themselves with the leftmost multi-cannon. At the moment, they were busy with reattaching the feed belts to the huge, four-barrelled weapon. They let out a whistle and a moment later, Evangeline could hear the clunking of 125mm shells as Cortana loaded the multi-cannon.

 

“I guess everything went alright, huh?” She greeted the aliens as she came to a halt near them. The Huragok let out a series of melodic whistles in return, swaying from side to side excitedly.

 

_/Effective range increased to 4.7 kilometres. Tracking software revamped to provide 15-milliradian dispersion at maximum range. Efficiency of recoil dampeners increased by 21 percent. Actuator output increased by 17 percent./_

 

Evangeline let out an impressed whistle as the words crawled across the display on her forearm. “I'll be damned. You guys do good work. Even Blaster McQuinn would probably be jealous.”

 

The Huragok whistled amicably, their six-eyed heads swinging to and fro.

 

“Alright, if there's anything else needs doing, let me know. I'll go and check the progress on the FSD.”

 

* * *

 

The usually-noisy engineering compartment was distractingly quiet at this time – the powerful fusion reactor was inactive, the corvette's systems being kept functional by a number of thick cables supplying power from the space station's power grid. In fact, the only noise that could be heard was the occasional whistle from the three Huragok tending to the Frame Shift Drive. They were utterly concentrated to their task, paying no heed to Evangeline even as she came to a halt behind the busy creatures.

 

“How's it coming along, Cortana?”

 

“ _Your guess is as good as mine, Commander. It's been impossible to distract them.”_

 

“Well, I just hope they can put the FSD back together in one piece, else we're in _deeeep_ shit. _Hyperion's_ not exactly meant for interplanetary travel at sub-light speeds.”

 

“ _Have faith, Commander.”_

 

“I'm trying, Cortana. I really am. But I'm really not comfortable with the FSD being touched by anyone else than me or Felicity Farseer.”

 

“ _Oh? Who's that?”_

 

“One of the most veteran explorers out there, and a prodigy with FSDs. If you can prove your worth to her as an explorer, she'll do work on your ship - damned good work at that.”

 

“ _I recall that you talked about engineers a short while ago. I assume she's one of them?”_

 

“She is. It's kind of a generic, catch-all term for individuals who've outshone others in their chosen field of work. Tod McQuinn, Juri Ishmaak and Elvira Martuuk are but a few. Once you can prove that their upgrades won't be wasted on your ship, they'll make miracles happen. Costly miracles, that is.”

 

“ _I don't follow.”_

 

“It's never really a matter of credits – I have about 120 million on me, actually. Not that hard to make a profit if you know what you're doing. What _is_ hard is getting hold of Core Dynamics compounds that are harder to track down than painite. Or scanning numerous high wakes in hopes of getting the data fragments you really, _really_ need.”

 

“ _Sounds like a real painite.”_ Cortana snickered.

 

“Real original, Cortana.”

 

* * *

 

“Admiral! Good to see you again!” Evangeline greeted Stanforth as he approached her – the woman was sitting, cross-legged, on a container near _Hyperion's_ foremost landing gear. “You're still an Admiral, right? They didn't bust you down a rank, did they?”

 

“Well, some, including Paragonsky, certainly weren't happy with my actions. Cole Protocol is in effect for a reason – the Covenant have a hard time finding our worlds otherwise. And, seeing as I was in direct breach of the Protocol when I sanctioned your mission... well, you get the idea.”

 

“So how come they didn't court-martial you?” Evangeline continued, busying herself over a defunct shield emitter in her lap, trying to wrestle the damaged component open with a wrench.

 

“A mountainful of technicalities. First of those being that yours is still a human ship, even if it isn't a UNSC vessel. Also, if anything that you collected could be tracked, the Covenant would've been on top of us days ago. Not to mention that your arrival's got even Admiral Hood curious. Of course, everyone was sceptical at first, but after seeing the footage, I could tell that their interest is roused.”

 

“So what does that mean for me and my ship?” She queried, putting the shield emitter aside as she stood up.

 

“At some point in the future, you'll probably have to go to Earth to meet Admiral Hood in person. At the moment, however, I have an offer for you.” Stanforth paused to pull a small, black box from his pocket. “While your ship is, without a doubt, incredibly advanced, I'd wager it can't exactly take a Covenant battlecruiser head-on. With UNSC's situation growing ever more precarious, it's been decided by HIGHCOM that you and your ship will be Task Force Daedalus. Your objectives are to reverse-engineer any and all Covenant technology you can retrieve, and to carry out acts of sabotage deep behind enemy lines.”

 

“And what's with that box?”

 

“Should you choose to accept it, the rank of Commander in the UNSC. For most part it's just a formality, but it'd save the bureaucrats a lot of headache.”

 

Evangeline thoughtfully looked at the small box before taking it, lifting its lid – inside lay a pair of insignia. Three bars and a star.

 

She looked back up at Stanforth.

 

“I'll need a crew.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, did you know that Stellaris is really addictive? I didn't, not until a couple of days ago.


	6. Spartans get the best PotGs

 

25th of May

Deep space

UNSC Hyperion

 

* * *

 

 

_Hyperion's_ crew had grown noticeably, now numbering at 62 men and women, Huragok included. Stanforth had, at Evangeline's request, provided her with new graduates instead of veteran crewmen. She reasoned that it'd give her the opportunity to accommodate them to Core Dynamics interfaces, whereas seasoned personnel would find it hard to adjust to an entirely different ship after having served aboard a UNSC vessel for most of their career.

 

A pair of ensigns, fresh from Reach's OCS, now aided her in commandeering the warship, while a group of hand-picked engineers from Station Gamma had been assigned to maintain the ship's systems.

 

Marcus Stacker, freshly promoted to Gunnery Sergeant, had requested to be assigned to _Hyperion_ along with his squad, and was now in charge of maintaining the ship's armoury. Avery Johnson, promoted to the rank of First Sergeant, had made a similar request, and was put in charge of maintaining the battle readiness of _Hyperion's_ Marine complement.

 

Blue Team, understanding the usefulness of a ship capable of independent, deep-space operations, had also put in a transfer request to the newest addition to UNSC Navy. Along with them came a small team of skilled technicians and equipment dedicated to the maintenance of the Spartans' MJOLNIR Mark-IV.

 

And last, but not least, there were three FENRIS nuclear warheads secured within the corvette's cargo hold, to be deployed against a deep space refuelling outpost whose location had been pulled from the Covenant corvette's databanks during their first mission.

 

You know, just rose garden stuff.

 

* * *

 

 

Linda slowed down as she jogged, hearing faint musical notes from further ahead. Rounding a corner, she saw one of the doors to Engineering slightly ajar.

 

“On your left.” Kelly announced as she sprinted past, a gust of displaced air swirling in her wake. The Spartan definitely felt Linda's gaze at the small of her back, quickening her pace before disappearing around another corner. As Kelly's footsteps grew fainter, she pushed the door open, stepping inside Engineering.

 

“Hey, Linda. How can I help you?” A pair of legs sticking out from a hatch in the wall greeted her.

 

That was something she'd never get used to – normally, she'd be greeted with 'Spartan' or 'ma'am'. Commander Graves, however, carried herself with an open, easygoing manner that had already won over most, if not the entirety, of the Marines onboard. Compared to the war-weary UNSC personnel, most of whom looked upon Spartans with equal parts of awe and unease, it was a disconcerting difference.

 

“I heard music, Commander.” The red-haired Spartan replied laconically.

 

“Oh, you mean this?” Evangeline shimmied out into the open, sitting upright as she poked at her wristpad. A moment later, music began to play from the speakers installed throughout Engineering. “It's about the Stand of the Swiss Guard. Or did the Sacking of Rome not take place in this universe?”

 

“6th of May, 1527?”

 

“That's the one, yeah.” Evangeline grinned before crawling back through the hatch. “You study history of warfare?”

 

“It's one of the aspects of Spartan training, Commander. We were taught of every known battle in humanity's history.”

 

“Every battle, huh?” There was a hint of challenge in Evangeline's voice as she spoke. “Alright, how about this one – Battle of Dyneburg.”

 

“3rd of January, 1920. Latvian and Polish forces under the command of General Edward Ridz-Smigly scored a decisive victory against the Soviet forces holding the city of Dyneburg, despite severe temperatures and deep snow. It was the last battle of the Latvian War of Independence as the Soviet forces were driven from their territory and a ceasefire was signed soon thereafter, followed by a peace treaty later in the year.”

 

“I'm impressed, I gotta admit. Didn't think you'd know about that small a country.”

 

“The Baltic people proved that their countries were more than just names on a map. It proved that they were capable of maintaining their existence as independent, sovereign nations. They paid a heavy price in blood for their freedom. If nothing else, their determination is worthy of respect.”

 

“And all was well until World War Two rolled around and fifty years of occupation happened because Soviet political machinations are full of shit.” Evangeline crawled back out, wiping her hands on her jumpsuit. “Well, that's over and done with.” With a press of a button, the hatch smoothly slid shut.

 

“Anything wrong with the ship, Commander?” Linda inquired.

 

“Nah. Just taking readings, doing calibrations, that kind of stuff. The Huragok gave us a jump range that outshines that of a stripped-down Anaconda! Fourty-two light-years and change when unladen! That's almost twenty on top of what _Hyperion_ already could do, while loaded for bear, to boot!” The black-haired woman exclaimed giddily. “Add a white dwarf to the equation and we're looking at over sixty light-years.”

 

“How so, ma'am?”

 

“Well, white dwarves and neutron stars have these jets coming off from their magnetic poles. You fly your ship through them, you get your FSD supercharged. White dwarves give a boost of about fifty percent, whereas neutron stars boost you by three-hundred percent.”

 

“Flying close to a stellar remnant doesn't seem like a very safe thing to do.”

 

“When has the excuse 'it's not safe' stopped people from doing anything?”

 

“A fair point.” Linda conceded. Much the same had often been said about the SOEIV, which took a certain amount of crazy to strap oneself in. That, or one was an ODST. There really wasn't much of a distinction between the two. “If I may ask, what is the Anaconda?”

 

“Something that don't want none unless you got buns, hun.” Evangeline laughed as she motioned for Linda to follow her. That was another odd character trait of hers – she always made references that no one could understand. “I kid, I kid. It's actually Faulcon DeLacy's pride and glory. It's one of the biggest status symbol out there, and when you fly one, you'll feel it. If you've got your hands on a 'Conda, you've officially made it to the big leagues. No one without a death wish is going to even try to tangle with you. And to those who do... good luck.”

 

“That sounds... nice?”

 

“Mmm.” Evangeline answered dreamily. “Mine eyes could but weep as they bore witness to the majesty of the Anaconda for the first time. It is definitely not for those weak of finance, however. I sunk close to a billion credits into my 'Conda. And, should one be unlucky enough to be unable to afford the re-buy in the unfortunate case that one's ship is destroyed, then one is shit outta luck.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“Yep.” Evangeline nodded in agreement before beginning to sing quietly.

 

_Hello Sidewinder, my old friend_  
I've come to fly with you again  
Because the profits got me greedy  
And in the combat I was hasty  
But the value, of my loadout was too high  
And so I die

_Amidst the sound... of Vipers_

 

Linda really didn't know what to make of that.

 

* * *

 

 

Cortana spun around, the holographic image behind her winking out as Evangeline entered _Hyperion's_ bridge. She didn't get a chance to see more than a string of letters and numbers spelling something to the effect of 'D78' before it disappeared.

 

“Hello, Commander!” The AI greeted.

 

“Cortana. Everything alright?”

 

“Oh, that? Don't mind that, it's just a small side project of mine.”

 

“I'll take your word for it. Now, how's the ship doing after the upgrades?”

 

“It was already a marvel of technology when you arrived, Commander.” Cortana grinned widely. “Now? I'd wager that your scientists would need several years and billions of credits to achieve what the Huragok did in a matter of days.”

 

“That's nice and everything, Cortana, it really is. But how are the cruiser-weight FSDs and shield generators coming along?”

 

“Prepare to be amazed.” Cortana let out another smile – with a wave of the AI's hand, every holo-emitter flickered to life, displaying complex algorithms, calculations and blueprints. “Truth be told, I would've come up with working designs eventually. But our tech-savvy friends gave me the boost I needed. The real trick is coming up with a practical enough refit process to marry two different technologies together. After all, a ship undergoing overhaul is a ship not fighting, and UNSC can hardly afford to pull _Marathon-_ class cruisers from the frontlines.”

 

“So we ask Stanforth for a couple of mothballed ships, or ones already in need of repair. A couple of frigates, a destroyer or two, and definitely at least one cruiser-weight vessel. We take them to Reach, repair and refit them, and show them off to HIGHCOM afterwards. Should they be sufficiently impressed – and I'm pretty sure they will be – we put the FSDs and shield generators into full production.”

 

“Sounds like a plan, that.” Cortana agreed.

 

* * *

 

 

Ensign Rosa Sawyer instinctively grit her teeth at the sight of a red giant popping into existence as _Hyperion_ dropped down to supercruise. The sight of a star mere light-seconds away still unnerved her, despite having been present for over a hundred jumps. At least it wasn't as bad as refuelling the ship – every couple of jumps, the corvette would hurtle through a main-sequence star's corona at roughly 356 million kilometres per hour, the star seemingly howling and shrieking with displeasure at the insignificant speck that dared to approach it. Despite the auto-polarizing windows, the star's surface still remained near-unbearably bright. She had to suppress a sigh of relief every time Cortana announced the fuel tanks were full and _Hyperion_ would bank away from the massive ball of burning hydrogen.

 

This was _not_ what she'd been expecting when she'd received her commission from Reach HIGHCOM. She was but a recent graduate from the OCS, awaiting her orders, when she'd received a message from Admiral Stanforth himself. It'd only gotten more and more bizarre from there – an advanced warship from an alternate dimension where humanity had reached 34 th century, with technology that made some of UNSC's highest achievements look like a primary school science show, not to mention the friendly Covenant who had readily defected to UNSC.

 

The biggest shock, however, was the corvette's means of FTL – an Alcubierre drive, a theoretically-viable means of superluminal travel that had been abandoned in late 22nd century. Yet here was one such device, operating despite the supposedly outlandish power requirements and lack of unobtainium that was exotic matter.

 

_Tobias Shaw and Wallace Fujikawa are probably rolling in their graves right now,_ she mused to herself.

 

“Sawyer.” Evangeline's voice shook her from her reverie and the Ensign turned to look at her commanding officer. “Everything alright?”

 

“Yes, Commander. Just drifted off in thought. It won't happen again.”

 

“Don't worry about it, Ensign.” The other woman assured her. “How many jumps out are we?”

 

“Eight jumps, ma'am.” She answered after examining the holographic screens surrounding her station. Her position aboard _Hyperion_ involved plotting paths between stars, and ensuring that there were enough main-sequence stars in their immediate vicinity, so as not to end up stranded in deep space with no chance of rescue. With Ensign David Miller manning the ship's systems, it let their Commander focus wholly on flying.

 

“Distance from Sol?”

 

“A little over 3,200 light-years, ma'am.”

 

“You seem a little reserved about that.”

 

“I'm sorry, I'm still having trouble wrapping my head around this, ma'am.” Rosa chuckled sheepishly.

 

“Tell me about it. I got thrown into a different universe.” Evangeline chuckled as she pressed a button on the rightmost control column. There was a brief drone that resolved into a resounding horn blare, and a number of unidentified objects popped up in Rosa's main screen.

 

“What was that?” Miller uneasily fidgeted around in his seat.

 

“Just the discovery scanner, Ensign. Force of habit and all that – drop, honk, scan the primary star, and move on. Only scan the entire system if you have the patience of a saint.”

 

“'Honk', ma'am?”

 

“Sorry, slipping back into Pilot lingo. Honking is doing a discovery scan, which reveals the locations of all stellar objects in the system. Fly close enough to one while locked onto it, and you'll get a pretty accurate data packet on its characteristics in a matter of seconds.”

 

“Just like that? Best not let the Surveyor Corps get wind of that.” Rosa joked. “They'll have a fit.”

 

“That so?”

 

“A scanner capable of performing detailed scans without the ship even needing to enter the target's gravity well? You bet they'll go green with envy, ma'am.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Cortana, you have the helm.” The seat's motors whirred as Evangeline undid the harness holding her in place.

 

“I have the helm, Commander.” The AI replied smoothly, the pilot's seat doing a 180, and Evangeline made her way towards the door.

 

“Ground team, assemble in the common room.” She spoke into a mic built into the Remlok suit's collar. Immediately, her words were repeated through the ship's intercom.

 

When she reached the common room two minutes later, it was already filled. At noticing her arrival, everyone stood at attention.

 

“At ease.” Evangeline stopped in front of the table. “Alright, ladies and gentlemen, this is it. Soon, we'll be making the last jump to our target. Cortana, bring the holo-emitters online.”

 

“ _Aye-aye, ma'am.”_ The AI complied, and a hologram popped into existence, depicting a space station – it was elliptical in shape, both ends of it tapering to fin-like points.

 

“This is our target, a deep space refuelling and resupply station that the Covenant make use of before making the last leg of the trip to UNSC-held space. A little over eight kilometres long, largely-automated, with a comparatively-small security detail on board. Most of its internal space is taken up by fuel tanks and stores of weapons and such. Despite its strategic value, it has no defensive fleet, besides a number of point-defence lasers.”

 

“Makes sense, I suppose.” Kelly piped up. “They're in deep space, after all. It'd take a UNSC ship years to get there, so they're not worried about anyone attacking the station.”

 

“Well, that's where we'll prove 'em wrong, ma'am.” Johnson grinned, and Kelly nodded in agreement.

 

“The plan is to sneak onto the station, gather any and all strategic data we can, and set the station's reactor to blow. If that doesn't work, we have a couple of nukes in the cargo bay to finish the job. Any questions?” Evangeline continued.

 

One Marine raised his hand.

 

“Go ahead, Malakhov.”

 

“How are we going to get inside undetected, ma'am? I doubt the Covies are just going to let us waltz in.”

 

“I'm glad you asked, Marine.” Evangeline grinned. “Remember the aliens we picked up? They're the ones who provided us with the intel on this station, and they're the ones who'll get us inside. Soon as we drop down from supercruise, they'll interface with _Hyperion's_ systems and spoof the station's sensors. To them, it'll seem that we're just a scout ship returning to resupply. We land, get Cortana an access point into their network, and she datamines their computers while the rest of us gather useful tech that we can make use of. If we can't induce a reactor meltdown, or if it takes too long, we rig the nukes with a dead man's switch to blow when we jump away.”

 

“I doubt it'll be that easy, ma'am.” Stacker spoke up.

 

“Ain't that the truth, Sergeant. This is a high-risk operation, people. We're a long way from home, with no chance of back-up or rescue if this goes south. If anyone wants out, this is your last chance. I'll turn the ship around and we'll find something else to nuke.”

 

No one present so much as made a sound.

 

“You people certainly are something else.” Evangeline allowed a tiny smile to grace her lips before sobering up. “Get yourselves geared up, everyone. I'll let you know when we're there.”

 

* * *

 

 

Though he would never admit it out loud, to anyone, John was not particularly excited about the prospect of infiltrating something space-bound to destroy its reactor.

 

Not after Chi Ceti IV.

 

“John?” Someone gently bumped his shoulder, and he looked up to see Kelly at his side. Despite both of the Spartans being clad in power armour, he could still tell his friend was concerned. “Everything alright?”

 

“Yes, Kelly. It's nothing, don't worry about it.”

 

The other Spartan looked at him for a moment longer before nodding slightly and making her way towards the rest of the group. James and Isaac, the team's temporary additions for the duration of this mission, were busy with going over the small stockpile of Covenant weapons that had been made available to them. There was a little bit of everything, from plasma pistols to beam rifles. Those would surely come handy, but would need to be used sparingly, since there was no real way to recharge them.

 

“ _Dropping down in one minute.”_ Evangeline's voice echoed through the cargo bay – immediately, everyone, be they Marine or Spartan, sat down in preparation for the rather bumpy exit from supercruise.

 

“ _Mark.”_ Their commander announced sixty seconds later, followed by a muffled boom as _Hyperion_ decelerated, various unsecured bits rattling about on the floor. _“Decoy system active and running. If the Covenant can see through the signals we're sending, well, we'll know when I have to start dodging shots. The Huragok assure me it'll hold, but don't start singing the Russian national anthem just yet.”_

 

“Uh... understood, ma'am.” Johnson announced. For the next several minutes, the thrum of engines was the only thing audible in the cargo bay. The atmosphere was tense, to say the least.

 

“ _We're through. They have some sort of automated docking system running things. If there'd been anyone trying to get a visual ID, we'd be up shit creek without a paddle, as the saying goes.”_

 

The announcement drew many a relieved sigh from the Marines as they stood back up.

 

“Wish we could see the look on the Covies' faces when their next ship comes by and finds just a cloud of scrap metal.” One Marine piped up.

 

“You and me both, soldier.” Johnson agreed. “For the time being, however, we'll just have to make do with stuffing humble pie down their greedy little maws until they beg for mercy. Now that'll be a lesson in humility and then some! Am I right, Marines?”

 

“Sir, yes sir!” Over twenty voices responded in unison.

 

“Mm-hm. Damn right I am.”

 

* * *

 

 

The landing gear auto-magnetized as it made contact with the flooring, firmly securing _Hyperion,_ its engines spinning down, last few wisps of plasma exhaust trailing from them as the vents controlling the plasma flow shut. Mere moments later, the cargo platform began to lower, Spartans hopping from it before it'd fully deployed.

 

“Talk to me, Cortana. What do you need me to do?” Evangeline asked as she deftly landed behind the power armour-clad supersoldiers, laser carbine held in her hands.

 

“ _Find an access point – a terminal or suchlike. Attach the spoofer to it, and we'll have a foothold in the station's network.”_

 

Evangeline reached to her waist for the small, rectangular device, examining it – it'd been modified by the Huragok to further improve upon its capabilities. If planted in a vital enough location, they'd be able to navigate the station with impunity.

 

“Understood. Don't party too hard while we're away, alright?” She hooked the spoofer back onto the belt.

 

“ _Aye-aye, ma'am.”_

 

“Alright, people. I was thinking we split up in two teams – Team Alpha handles the data collection, while Team Bravo sets the nukes. However, if anyone is willing to suggest an alternate course of action, go ahead.” Evangeline addressed her team.

 

“We'd need to have schematics of the station beforehand, ma'am.” John was the first to speak. “Furthermore, if we can take the command centre, we can assume full control of the station's systems, and stop any calls for help.”

 

“Sounds good. Let's do that.” Evangeline started towards one of the doors, but ground to a halt as _Hyperion's_ cargo platform began to descend once more – an upbeat whistle could be heard as one of the Huragok floated towards them, a pulsing glow emanating from its bioluminescent markings.

 

“Where do you think you're going? Get back on the ship.” She ordered to the alien.

 

_/I help/,_ it whistled to her.

 

“Are you going to pick up a gun and start shooting?”

 

The Huragok vigorously shook its head, ever the pacifist, before stretching one of its tentacles towards her, offering to her what seemed to be a bunch of electronics welded together – she vaguely recognized several of the components. She leaned closer to examine it when she felt her life support unit being plucked from her back.

 

“Do you guys ever ask for permission?” She sighed resignedly as the Huragok took the device apart once more, inserting the new addition among its sophisticated circuitry before reassembling it. As always, the process took only a couple of seconds, the alien's tentacles a veritable blur of motion. Once it was done, it whistled again, returning the unit back to Evangeline's hands.

 

_/Shields/,_ the creature offered helpfully.

 

“Er... thanks.” Evangeline muttered dubiously as she gave the LSU a once-over before locking it back into its place, waiting for something to happen. At first, nothing seemed to have changed before there was a flash, and a white-blue barrier enveloped her body. The barrier also turned out to be extremely slippery, as Evangeline found out when her feet gained a mind of their own and zipped forwards. With a startled shriek, she fell flat on her back.

 

“What a troll...” She coughed indignantly, slowly sliding across the floor. The Huragok let out an alarmed whistle, floating towards the woman and flipping her on her stomach.

 

“What even is dignity?” She continued to complain as the alien fiddled with the LSU. The barrier faded away before manifesting again, except this time she had more traction than that of a duck on a frozen pond. With a grunt, she pulled herself upright, picking her carbine up from where it'd fallen. “I guess you made your point, Hindenburg.”

 

The Huragok whistled flippantly.

 

* * *

 

“If I never again see a space station painted a dozen different hues of purple, it'll be too soon.” Stacker muttered as he knelt down, sweeping the access corridor ahead of him as one of the Spartans pried off the maintenance lid of what seemed to be a systems monitoring terminal. The rest of the Marines took up positions as well, as their commander planted the spoofer among the wires bundled inside. A single flick of a switch was all it took to bring it online, lines of code crawling across its tiny display.

 

“ _I'm in,”_ Cortana announced through the spoofer's tiny speaker a little over a minute later.

 

“Good job, Neo. Mind hacking the Matrix while you're at it?”

 

“ _What?”_

 

“Never mind. How much control do you have over the station?”

 

“ _I can access most of the surveillance cameras and the tram system, but not much else, unless we want to get detected. It's only a matter of time before someone decides to develop a common sense and check the cameras.”_

 

“So we should hurry.”

 

“ _That'd be nice, yes. I'm sending waypoint to the command centre on your HUD. I'll keep an eye on the cameras so you don't run afoul of any sentries.”_

 

“Appreciate it.” Evangeline nodded as she plucked the spoofer from its spot. James moved closer, replacing the terminal's cover as she stood up. “Let's move out, double time.”

 

It didn't take long before Evangeline felt her legs protesting – she didn't do a lot of exercising while flying. Very much her own fault, to be fair. No Marine or Spartan had so much as complained as they proceeded, occasionally slowing down as Cortana informed them of the positions of small Covenant patrols. Those were either carefully avoided, or efficiently disposed of with a few well-placed knives. She was thoroughly impressed at how effortlessly the Spartans melted into whatever shadows there were, waiting for a group of Covenant to pass by before silently lunging forward, burying their knives in the back of the aliens' necks. Barely a sound could be heard except the brief struggle before they died. After the bodies had been dragged somewhere discreet, they continued onwards.

 

“Man, I gotta say, this place is huge...” Evangeline muttered as they went through another set of doors.

 

“You got big space stations back where you come from, ma'am?” Johnson inquired, bringing up the rearguard.

 

“Oh, yeah. Stanford toruses, Bernal spheres, even 2-kilometre wide Borg Cube look-alikes. A cyborg by the name of Jaques has a mobile starport all to himself, actually. He's flown that thing about for centuries. On 26th of May, he made a jump from Gliese 1269 to Beagle Point, except a malfunction landed him 22,000 light-years from Sol.”

 

“But today's the 25th of May.” Johnson frowned in confusion.

 

“And when I made that fateful jump which landed me here, it was 29th of September, 3302. Trans-dimensional time travel's full of shit, ain't it?” Evangeline grinned at the Marine as they passed through another door. “Alright, seems we're getting close to our objective. Weapons check, everyone.”

 

There was a brief flurry of activity as everyone did as ordered. Just like with the corvette, they would have to hit fast and hard. Letting an alarm be raised would most definitely throw a wrench in their plans.

 

“What are our orders, Commander?” John asked as they walked.

 

“We toss flashbangs in first, try to keep damage to their computers to a minimum. Don't let the footsoldiers reorganize – we can't afford to let them regroup and call for reinforcements. Soon as that door opens, assume we're working on borrowed time. We don't stop firing until they're all dead.”

 

“Understood, Commander.” John nodded.

 

“Simple and straightforward. I like it.” Kelly quipped, racking her shotgun.

 

* * *

 

 

“Stack up.” John quietly ordered as he thumbed one of the flashbang grenades on his waist. The rest of Blue Team were doing the same as the Marines followed the Spartan's order. Isaac's hand was hovering over the activation rune that would open the door.

 

_Get ready,_ he signalled, before extending three fingers.

 

Three.

 

Two.

 

One.

 

Mark.

 

Immediately, Isaac toggled the door – with a soft chime and a rumble, it slid open, followed by six flashbang grenades, expertly aimed to cover as much area as possible.

 

The Covenant inside only managed to let out a couple of startled cries before their senses were overcome with unbearable light and noise.

 

Soon as the last flashbang detonated, the Spartans stormed inside, faster than anyone in half a ton of armour had any right to be.

 

“Let's go, boys and girls, time to earn your paychecks!” Johnson barked, following the six supersoldiers as the Marines scrambled to keep pace with them.

 

It was chaos in the command centre, Evangeline observed as she flattened herself against a column – most of the Covenant present had been incapacitated by the flashbangs, crawling around on all fours or staggering blindly. The rest were either lying in pools of their own blood, or scrambling for cover as the Spartans laid down enviably-accurate gunfire, each burst of bullets cutting down a Covenant footsoldier unlucky enough to be out in the open.

 

It soon became clear that the Spartans were effortlessly carrying the attack all by themselves – they never missed, they never stopped advancing, and eliminated the Covenant troops with reflexes that easily put the quickest Pilots Federation pilots to shame. And she'd seen a wing of Elite-ranked Vipers dance around a trio of Federal Gunships, wearing down their shields with point-blank railgun fire before blasting them apart with high-yield torpedoes.

 

But nothing could compare to the speed with which the Spartans chose their targets, ducked in and out of cover, opened fire, and reloaded. It was humbling, honestly.

 

Her introspection was interrupted as a door on the far side of the room slid open, and in stormed a group of Elites, led by one in golden armour, clutching a blue-white sword, all but roaring his head off as he saw the ensuing bedlam.

 

Evangeline raised her carbine and squeezed the trigger, sending a flurry of laser bolts against the gold-armoured Elite, the bright red beams splashing across his shields. Sensing a new threat, the alien directed the next bellow at her. The sight of the Elite's mandibles, lined with sharp teeth, made her skin crawl.

 

“That guy looks like he's trouble! Can someone take care of him?”

 

“Say no more, Commander!” Kelly responded, darting out of cover with astonishing speed, deftly dodging the plasma bolts directed at her as she closed in on her target. The closest of the newcomers saw her approach as a challenge and shouted angrily, charging towards the Spartan, intending to club the supersoldier over the head with his plasma rifle.

 

The Elite might've as well been blindfolded, the way his swing missed. Without even slowing down, Kelly snapped the alien's wrist before jamming the barrel of her M90 under his chin and pulled the trigger. The shotgun exhaled deafeningly, its Soellkraft 8-Gauge shell tearing through the Elite's shields and neck in one go. Without even slowing down, she fell upon the sword-wielding Elite, unloading another shot into the arm that held the sword – howling with pain, he dropped it. Before the weapon could hit the floor, however, it was scooped up by Kelly who decapitated the Elite in the blink of an eye.

 

From her safe spot behind her column, Evangeline watched, wide-eyed and speechless, as Kelly kicked the headless corpse forward, bowling a pair of blue-armoured Elites over before driving the white-blue sword into the nearest one's sternum. She twisted the blade before slashing through another one's head with a backhanded swing. The next one was roundhouse-kicked in the face before getting his head loped off as well. The Spartan was like a well-oiled machine of death, never faltering, never missing, avoiding their attacks like it was the easiest thing in the world.

 

From the moment she killed the first Elite, a mere six seconds had passed before the last one suffered the same grisly fate.

 

As if on cue, the gunfire stopped moments later as the last signs of resistance were mopped up.

 

“Ooh, I like this thing.” Kelly thoughtfully examined the blade of solid energy in her hand. “Finders keepers.” She pressed the activation stud on its handle, letting out a hum of satisfaction as the blade winked out of existence.

 

“Holy shit...” Evangeline breathed as she stood up, taking a better look at the carnage. “That's one of the craziest things I've seen, and I've been to the centre of the galaxy!”

 

“I aim to please.” Kelly shrugged.

 

“Aim to turn the Covenant into meat salad, more like. God, I am glad I have my helmet on.” Evangeline replied, jogging over to a blinking console, alien warbling emanating from it. Dithering indecisively for a moment, she eventually pressed a blinking rune. “Uh, everything's under control here, situation is normal. There was a weapons malfunction, but everything's fine now, we're all fine. How are you?”

 

More alien gibberish issued from the console. In lieu of an answer, she raised her carbine, unloading a dozen shots into the device.

 

“Boring conversation, anyways. Chief, we're going to have company!” She shouted as she rushed over to another console, planting the spoofer on its casing. “Do your thing, Cortana!”

 

“ _It certainly didn't take long for things to go to hell, huh?”_

 

“My sentiments exactly, Cortana. Now, download everything that you can. Navigational data, orders, anything that you consider to be of use to us.”

 

“ _Aye-aye, ma'am.”_

 

“Alright, people, status report!” She raised her voice, casting a look around the corpse-strewn room. “Anyone wounded?”

 

“Lainsfield and Novacek, ma'am.” Kohler, the team's medic, responded, busily tending to the two casualties. “They're not in any immediate danger of dying, but it'll be a while before they're fit for duty. Plasma injuries don't heal easily.”

 

Evangeline nodded slightly, feeling bile rise in the back of her throat as she saw the state Novacek's chest was in – a plasma bolt had burnt its way through the Marine's armour, boiling away his skin and muscle alike. In some places she could even see charred ribs before a thick layer of biofoam covered the grisly injury. Lainsfield's injuries, while not as life-threatening, were still enough to make her stomach churn – several plasma bolts had grazed the armour piece protecting his back, leaving his shoulders a sickly shade of red, covered with weeping welts. It looked like someone had doused the man with scalding-hot water.

 

“Shit. Alright, alright...” She paced for a moment as she thought. “Kelly, take one Spartan with you, get our wounded back to _Hyperion,_ post-haste. Cortana, keep an eye on them, make sure they don't run into any trouble.”

 

Kelly nodded, before gesturing for James to follow. The taciturn Spartan nodded in return, picking Novacek up once Kohler was done. Kelly hoisted Lainsfield onto her shoulder, shotgun held in her free hand.

 

“Cortana, what's your progress? Have you gotten into their systems yet?”

 

“ _I am now, Commander. However, it seems that remote detonation of the reactor has been disabled by some of the personnel.”_

 

“Guess we're doing this the hard way, then. Now, once you've confirmed that Lainsfield and Novacek are safely onboard the ship, redirect one of those cargo trams to a station that's the closest to _Hyperion_ _._ We'll regroup, set the nukes, and hightail it out of here. Sound good, everyone?”

 

The Marines cheered, nodding enthusiastically, while the Spartans elected to simply nod.

 

“Then let's blow this purple piece of crap to kingdom come.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recently, I swapped my computer's HD 5670 out for a GTX 750Ti, being that the Radeon GPU gave me a lot of grief when it came to playing Battlefield 3/4, Dark Souls 2, GTA 5, Elite: Dangerous, and some other games.
> 
> Naturally, being the procrastinating turd that I am, I played the crap out of the Elite: Dangerous 2.2 Beta. Don't judge me, the Imperial Cutter is a sexy beast of a ship.


	7. Nothing but the rain

“ _Commander.”_

 

“Go ahead, Kelly.”

 

“ _We've completed our objective. Our casualties have been safely delivered to_ Hyperion.”

 

“Good job, you two. Now, get to the tram station – you'll have a cargo tram waiting for you there. Cortana, send them a waypoint.”

 

“ _Aye-aye, Commander.”_ The AI responded before the comm-link went quiet. Evangeline turned her head to cast a look around the tram – meant for hauling cargo by the ton, it had plenty of space, meaning everyone but the Spartans were giving the three nuclear warheads a wide berth.

 

“You guys not worried about the nukes?” She broke the silence.

 

“Hardened casings, Commander.” Fred responded without missing a beat. “Pretty much useless without the codes.”

 

“Alright, I'll take your word for it.” She nodded. “Now, since Cortana mentioned that we can't rig the reactor to blow remotely, I think it's a safe bet to say that wherever the reactor is, it's already being defended. They'll probably have snipers and heavy weapons emplacements deployed, too. It'll be up to our sharpshooters to take care of them. Cortana, can you get us a visual on their positions?”

 

“ _I'll try, but it's likely not going to be much. The Covenant are getting smart – they figured out that they're locked out of all but the most basic systems faster than I anticipated. They're cutting cables and blowing up junction terminals. A scorched earth tactic if I ever saw one – if they can't have it, no-one can.”_

 

“All the more reason for us to hurry up, before those idiots accidentally vent the entire goddamn station. Do what you can to hinder their progress.”

 

“ _Will do, Commander.”_

 

* * *

 

 

There was a pair of muffled thumps on the tram's roof that had everyone jump to their feet.

 

“ _We're back, Commander.”_ Evangeline heard Kelly's voice in her earpiece and she gestured for the others to be at ease.

 

“Good, now get inside. We'll be getting to our stop soon.”

 

A moment later, there was a creak of metal as the Spartans forced the side door open before hopping inside.

 

“Alright, the gang's all here!” Evangeline exclaimed before motioning everyone over. “Blue Team, you'll be on crowd control once the shit hits the fan. It'll be up to you to take out any and all footsoldiers with heavy weapons and such. Kelly, you'll be the bait. Hope you don't mind.”

 

“I don't.” Kelly quipped.

 

“Good. You'll be drawing the bulk of their fire, make the Covenant vulnerable to return fire by the rest of us. Don't get yourself shot.”

 

“I won't.” The Spartan nodded.

 

“Alright. Everyone else, don't bunch up. Spacing is paramount. Got it?”

 

Everyone nodded at her.

 

“Good to know. Next stop – reactors and explosions, oh my!”

 

* * *

 

 

The tram came to a halt, its door sliding open as everyone piled out.

 

“This is it, people – the home stretch. Watch each other's backs, don't take unnecessary risks, and we'll come out on top.” Evangeline muttered anxiously, more to herself than anyone else.

 

“Relax, Commander. You're doing fine.” Fred spoke up.

 

“You think so?”

 

“Taking everything in consideration? I'd say you're doing more than adequately.”

 

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence.” Evangeline chuckled as she opened the door, and got a plasma bolt to the chest for her troubles. With a shocked cry, she fell on her back, a plume of smoke curling away from her sternum.

 

For the briefest of moments, it was as if John was 14 years old, back onboard the Covenant warship that'd attacked the _UNSC Commonwealth,_ after Sam had been hit by that fateful shot. The very next moment, he turned his weapon on the single hapless Grunt, as did the rest of their team, riddling the diminutive alien with a wide assortment of bullets. The result was particularly messy.

 

“Commander's down!” Kohler exclaimed as the smell of cordite filled the air, kneeling at Evangeline's side, already deploying her medical tools.

 

“I'm alright! I think so, at least.” Evangeline grunted, sitting up as she pawed at her suit's front – asides from a burn mark that covered most of the left side of her chest, there was no other damage. Several seconds later, there was a crackling pop as the barrier around the woman reappeared.

 

“Well, would you look at that.” She mused to herself. “Damn near drained my energy cell, though. All the same, I owe my life to our floaty friend.”

 

“Never thought I'd see the day a Covie would save a human life. But, you know, first time for everything and all that.” Johnson shook his head as he pulled Evangeline upright.

 

“Ain't that the truth.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Okay, do we have any flashbangs left?” Evangeline spoke up as they approached the final door – it was a big, reinforced thing, no doubt built to withstand the firepower of a small army. Several heads nodded in return. “Good. Once the door opens, toss them in, give Speedy McGo-Fast over here a bit of an advantage. Probably won't affect all of the bastards, but it's better than nothing.”

 

“They'll have more luck catching the wind, Commander.” Kelly boasted, briefly checking her shotgun.

 

“Just make sure your ego's not writing cheques your body can't cash.”

 

“Will do, Commander.” The Spartan nodded.

 

“Good. Alright, people, you know the drill.” Immediately, everyone took cover wherever they could. Kelly crouched down near the door, shotgun held in her hands, ready to spring into action.

 

There was a soft chime as Evangeline toggled the door open. With a hiss, the thick plates of metal effortlessly moved aside – a split-second later, a flurry of plasma bolts and beams whizzed through the opening, but none found their mark.

 

“Flashbangs, now!” Evangeline ordered, and the last few flashbang grenades flew through the open door, their tell-tale detonations heard moments later. “Your time to shine, Spartan!”

 

In lieu of an answer, Kelly charged forward. It'd be an insult to her abilities to simply say she took off at full sprint – she bolted as if the Devil himself was breathing down her neck. The Covenant defending the reactor did their best to gun her down, but they would've had more luck escaping the event horizon of a black hole. She was the fastest Spartan. No one could touch her if she didn't allow them to.

 

“Blue Team, advance!” John barked as he stormed inside, zeroing in on a turret-manning Grunt that'd inadvertently exposed itself in its attempts to hit Kelly. Half a second later, the diminutive alien tumbled from its seat, dragging the plasma turret with it. The rest of Blue Team followed suit, rifles firing almost non-stop at any and all Covenant footsoldiers that were too slow to get back into cover.

 

“Go, go, go! Can't let them have all the fun!” Johnson followed the Spartans' example a moment later, as did the rest of the Marines. Assault rifles, battle rifles, DMRs, all blazed brightly, spitting hot metal death at their alien enemies. The Covenant, disorganized as they were, did not stand much of a chance against an attack spearheaded by Spartans. Grunts, easily-scared, lost their will to fight as pinpoint sniper fire picked off their commanders, sowing further dissent among their ranks.

 

Evangeline ducked under a stream of green plasma bolts, readjusting her aim before opening fire – a flurry of laser bolts slipped under the Jackal's shield, burning its leathery foot. With a squawk, the bird-like alien stumbled and fell, giving her the opportunity to land a kill-shot that struck the alien right through its neck.

 

Looking to her left, she saw one Marine try to advance, oblivious to an Elite drawing a bead on her with its plasma rifle. Hurriedly, she tackled the hapless woman to the ground, bright blue stream of plasma whizzing above mere moments later.

 

“Watch your ass, Marine!” Evangeline shouted, returning fire.

 

“Sorry, ma'am!” The soldier apologised as she took cover.

 

“Don't be sorry, be better!”

 

* * *

 

 

If Kelly was being honest to herself, being on the offensive for once was a welcome change. She had seen too many costly victories on the ground made pointless when the Covenant simply glassed the battlegrounds from orbit. It felt good to let loose.

 

She dodged yet another series of shots aimed her way – it was becoming much like muscle memory at that point. To her senses, the Covenant gunfire might've as well been moving at a snail's pace. Her greaves kicked up a shower of sparks as she slid across the floor on her knees, kneecapping a pair of Grunts that tried to hinder her progress. A pair of swift kicks to their grubby little faces put them out of commission.

 

Sparing a split-second to check on the rest of their team, she saw that they had things well in hand – the Covenant's defensive line was well on its way to crumbling under the sustained assault the rest of their team was carrying out. The Grunts and Jackals had lost much of their will to fight, with the few remaining Elites hard-pressed to retain a semblance of order. Of course, time spent ordering one's minions around was time not spent taking cover, giving snipers ample time to pick them off.

 

If she were anyone else, she might've felt a smidgen of pity for the Covenant.

 

But all she felt was the grim satisfaction of seeing their hated foe die.

 

* * *

 

 

The last Elite took a sniper round through his stomach, keeling over as purple blood trickled down his armour. Feebly, he tried to drag himself away, but his ill-fated escape was cut short as a pair of Marines emptied their magazines in him. The fighting didn't last long after that, the last few shots putting down what few stragglers remained.

 

“And then there were none.” Johnson announced proudly as the last echoes of gunfire faded away. “Man, we just opened a can of whoop-ass on these sorry bastards!”

 

“Ain't that the truth, Sergeant.” Evangeline responded, holstering her rifle. “How many casualties do we have?”

 

“Four wounded, and one might not make it. But like hell if I'll allow that to happen.” Kohler replied distractedly, already busying herself with treating the wounded, one of whom had three long, purple shards of crystal sticking out of his thigh.

 

“Damn. Alright, Doc, patch them up as best as you can. Johnson, set up a perimeter. Blue Team, with me. Let's plant these nukes.”

 

Johnson nodded as Blue Team followed Evangeline towards the reactor.

 

“So I was thinking we hide the nukes away behind some of this panelling. Wouldn't do to leave them out in the open. Any ideas, Cortana?”

 

“ _There is a maintenance access hatch thirteen metres to your left. You should be able to open it with a bit of effort.”_

 

“Appreciate it, Cortana.” Evangeline thanked the AI. It didn't take long to track down the aforementioned hatch and force it open. Fred, Isaac and James carefully settled the warheads among the thick bundles of cabling within. “Alrighty. Cortana, can you jury-rig the warheads into the station's sensors? Arm them, and set them to detonate once _Hyperion's_ signal can't be detected.”

 

“ _Can do, Commander. Everything's set and ready.”_

 

“One more thing. Give me a link to _Hyperion.”_

 

“ _Done. May I ask why?”_

 

“Well, this station's going up in a nuclear fireball anyways. Might as well fuck with the Covenant bastards one last time.” Evangeline replied, busily entering commands into her wristpad. “Set this to play through the station's intercom, on repeat.”

 

“ _Done and done.”_

 

Mere seconds later, drumbeats poured from the innumerable loudspeakers throughout the station. Evangeline grinned widely as she forced the hatch shut, concealing the deadly secret within.

 

“Now that's more like it! Time to haul ass, everyone! Blue Team, if you don't mind, you'll be carrying our wounded.”

 

The Spartans nodded and rushed over to Kohler, carefully picking the wounded Marines up, taking care not to further aggravate their injuries.

 

 _Something evil, something malicious_  
Is burning up the ancient world  
May our brothers stay alive  
And may freedom survive

 

“Back to the tram, people! Double time!” Evangeline ordered, catching up to her crew. She took one last look behind her, her gaze lingering for the briefest of moments on the thrumming reactor.

 

Then she ran, too.

 

* * *

 

 

 _There is a force, a power within_  
Within the immortal soul  
Bright as the sun, stronger than all  
The power is in control

 

The roar of power metal was barely audible over the rumble of their tram, but Johnson hummed along with the song all the same, clearly in high spirits.

 

“We're inside a Covie space station that's rigged to blow and Sarge's grinning from ear to ear.” A Marine by the name of Kowalski mumbled. “This ain't right.”

 

“Woe is me, surrounded by fools who got no appreciation for the classics...” Johnson lamented, shaking his head. “That guitar solo is sick as all hell, though.”

 

“Don't pay them no mind, Sergeant.” Evangeline quipped from her position atop a crate, swinging her legs back and forth. “They're just jealous of your impeccable taste in music.”

 

Johnson merely grinned in response.

 

“ _We'll be reaching our stop in a little over a minute.”_ Cortana informed Evangeline.

 

“Thanks for the heads-up, Cortana.” The woman nodded before addressing everyone else. “Get ready to disembark, people. I want us moving the very moment those doors open, and back on board the _Hyperion_ ASAP. Understood?”

 

The Marines all vocalised their assent, while the Spartans, as always, simply nodded. Tensely, they waited a minute before the tram began to slow down. Immediately, everyone rose to their feet, collecting their weapons and carrying the wounded.

 

“Cortana, is the path ahead clear?”

 

“ _I can detect no Covenant comm chatter from here to_ Hyperion. _It seems they're too busy trying to find the source of the music.”_

 

“No time like the present, then. Let's not overstay our welcome.”

 

* * *

 

 

Stacker let out a relieved sigh, _Hyperion's_ familiar shape appearing as the final door to the hangar bay slid open.

 

“Ain't that a sight for sore eyes.” The Marine chuckled relievedly.

 

“She sure is pretty, no?” Evangeline mused in agreement as she entered a command in her wristpad. With a hiss, the corvette's cargo platform began to descend, several of its crew already standing on it, waiting to help with the wounded. It didn't take long to have the injured Marines safe and sound in their cabins, with Kohler making the rounds, ensuring their condition was stable.

 

Evangeline hummed excitedly as she strapped into her seat, controls all but hopping into her hands. With a flick of a switch, the engines spun up, a rumbling whine that steadily built to a crescendo. A trio of dull thumps signalled that the landing gear was no longer attached to the floor, smoothly retracting into the corvette's hull as the warship's retro-thrusters pushed it out from the hangar bay. The manoeuvring thrusters flared into life and _Hyperion_ yawed to the right, beginning to put some distance between itself and the soon-to-be space junk.

 

And that's when a pair of Covenant cruisers decided to exit slipspace about twenty kilometres from the station. Which, in nautical terms, meant that they were pretty much right on top of the corvette.

 

“Oh, shit!” Evangeline yelled, flooring the throttle – _Hyperion_ was soon hurtling at a hefty Mach 1, trying to escape the station's mass lock. The cruisers immediately bore down on the tiny vessel, plasma turrets glowing angrily.

 

Evangeline cursed over and over, constantly mashing the boost button as she dumped all available power into engines – with a throaty roar, the corvette surged forward. Every couple of seconds, she glared angrily at the stubbornly-lit 'MASS LOCKED' icon, as if hoping her ire would force it to change its mind.

 

“The cruisers are launching torpedoes!” Cortana suddenly announced – and sure enough, a dozen blurry contacts manifested on the sensors, slowly crawling towards them.

 

“Fuuuuck!” Evangeline vocalised nervously.

 

Fortunately, providence soon saw it fit to announce that they were no longer mass-locked by the station. Better yet, with the cruisers unable to catch up to the speedy corvette, they could escape immediately. While a direct hyperjump would take the ship to a different system altogether, the charge-up time would probably give the torpedoes ample time to catch up. Supercruise it was, then.

 

Ten seconds later, _Hyperion_ disappeared in a bright flash. Several more seconds passed before the Covenant's supply station became a miniature star.

 

“I dare say that was a little too close for comfort.” Cortana announced matter-of-factly as _Hyperion_ left the undoubtedly-angry cruisers far behind.

 

“You can say that again.” Evangeline sighed as she slumped in her seat.

 

“I dare say that was a little too close for comfort.”

 

“You always this much of a smart-ass, or is that how you get your kicks?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“The one AI they assign to my ship, and she's sassy.” Evangeline muttered exasperatedly. “Plot a course for Reach.”

 

* * *

 

 

26th of May

Reach

Station Gamma

 

* * *

 

 

“Commander.”

 

“Oh. Hey, Linda.” Evangeline briefly paused before resuming her pull-ups. “Just exercising here. Need to get myself in a better shape and all that.”

 

“I see.” Linda nodded.

 

“I'm guessing you haven't seen that one Battlestar Galactica episode? The one where Starbuck busts up her knee and then tries to convince Adama that she can still fly with that injury? Except Adama keeps adding more weights to the weight machine to simulate the gees she'd be putting herself under. This is more or less the same thing. I've been getting a little soft around the edges, been flying _Hyperion_ too long with inertia dampeners on.”

 

“Mm.” Linda let out a hum. “Permission to speak freely, Commander?”

 

“Sure, go ahead. In fact, I'm going to make a rule – everyone assigned to _Hyperion_ is allowed to call me out on my bullshit, if said bullshit ever arises. So, what's on your mind?”

 

“You do not seem to be taking this situation seriously, Commander.”

 

Evangeline stopped, letting out a soft chuckle before continuing her exercise. “You're actually the first person to say something to that effect. Everyone else kinda seems to be afraid of upsetting me or are just happy to roll with the fact that I'm rolling with this. Alright – you want to know why I'm the way I am?”

 

Linda nodded.

 

“Simply put, I'm space crazy.”

 

“I don't follow.”

 

“In that case, let me hit you with some knowledge. In my universe – god, that still sounds corny – people with personal starships can go pretty much anywhere they want to. And when the closest inhabited solar system is tens of thousands of light-years away, it's kinda inevitable that you'll have to come to terms with how really goddamn insignificant you are in the grand scheme of things. You're out there for weeks, or months, even, without any support. If things go wrong, your only chance of rescue is either the stasis pod or Fuel Rats.”

 

Linda watched, quietly, as Evangeline continued her explanation. The woman seemed to be calm, but there was a forced casualness to her voice all the same.

 

“We commanders, though there are lots of us, and even more other pilots out there, are such a tiny, yet privileged minority relative to the whole population of humanity. We are, to a large portion of humanity, like demi-gods, flying among the stars, dealing exclusively with each other, fighting our own wars and making our own allegiances. The average human might barely give us a thought, while also knowing that their fates are subtly linked to ours, that our conflicts and politics affect them in ways that they have no control over. Tends to put things in perspective and whatnot.” Evangeline sighed as she let go of the bar, dropping to the floor as she ran a hand through her hair.

 

“I've never heard of a pilot who actually decides to settle down, either. The pull of the void is too strong. Sure, you may fool yourself for a while, but before long, you'll find yourself behind the controls once more.” The woman turned to fully face Linda, and the Spartan found herself somewhat mollified by the expression of utter seriousness she bore. “An Imperial slave is free to go once their contract is up. But me? I'll keep flying. I'll fly until I die of old age, or until that fateful day my ejector seat malfunctions. You're a career soldier, aren't you? Say we win this war and kick the Covenant back to where they came from – do you think you could just up and return to civilian life?”

 

Linda found that she had no answer ready to that query – the Spartan-II program was her entire life. Doctor Halsey and Chief Mendez had given them everything - duty, honour, and purpose. The concept of a life after war had been far-fetched to her, up until recently. But with the technology provided by _Hyperion,_ there was an actual chance that the war could end in UNSC's favour. She didn't know how to feel about that. Of course, she didn't voice any of these concerns to Evangeline. To her, the woman was still very much an unknown.

 

“No, ma'am. I do not believe I would.”

 

“There you go, then.” Evangeline nodded. “Now, you have concerns that I do not take my situation seriously. Let me reassure you that I do. If I didn't, I'd have bailed at the first opportunity, and I'd have to be a cold-hearted bitch to just run and hide while people are dying.”

 

Linda intently studied the other woman for any signs of dishonesty, but could not sense even a hint of lie in her posture or waver in her voice.

 

“Besides, I meant what I said earlier – if anyone from my crew have issues about anything, they are free to voice their concerns to me, so that we can work on fixing the problem. I know I'm a good pilot, but I'm not so full of myself to think myself infallible. Would that be acceptable?”

 

“I believe it would be, ma'am.” The Spartan nodded.

 

“Then we're in agreement.” Evangeline smiled. “Alright, I gotta go meet Stanforth. Talk to you later.”

 

“Commander.” Linda nodded, watching as the other woman left, humming.

 

_Comrade, pick up your shovel and hoe_

_I said, comrade, go and harvest potatoes_

_I said, comrade, I don’t care if there’s snow_

_We will build a new town for glory of motherland_

 

The Spartan could only shake her head in confusion.

 

* * *

 

 

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

 

“Take a seat, Commander.” Stanforth gestured towards the chair, and Evangeline did as told. “I've been reviewing your request.”

 

“The one about the ships, sir?”

 

“The very same.” Stanforth nodded. “While procuring viable frigates and destroyers isn't going to be a difficult matter, the same cannot be said about cruisers – we have precious few _Marathon-_ class cruisers left, and most of them are being pulled back to guard the Inner Colonies. However, after making some inquiries, I have located a pair of _Halcyon-_ class light cruisers at Aszod ship breaking yards right here on Reach, and a _Valiant-_ class super-heavy cruiser, the _UNSC Cassiopeia._ She's seen some heavy action, and would require an overhaul anyways. I pulled some strings, had _Cassiopeia_ redirected here. When you have the time for it, you should go to the yards, and choose one of the cruisers for the refit.”

 

“You're letting me choose, Sir?” Evangeline raised an eyebrow.

 

“Being that you are most familiar with your ship's technology, yes. This'll be your show to run, Commander. I'll just handle the logistics.”

 

“In that case, let's go right now. Let's take a shuttle to the yards and take a look for ourselves, sir.”

 

“I don't have anything else on my plate at the moment. Might as well.”

 

* * *

 

 

Evangeline took a look around her as she stepped out from the Pelican's troop bay, her gaze drifting around the cavernous, dusty docking bay of the decommissioned _UNSC Valor._

 

The _Halcyon-_ class cruiser was somewhat of a joke among the navy – the smallest ship to be given a cruiser classification, its underpowered reactors and engines meant it was outpaced even by the massive _Punic-_ class carriers. A single MAC and a measly six Archer missile pods meant the cruiser didn't have much bite to it, either. The only aspect of the ship that made it noteworthy was its tremendous durability – numerous internal cross bracings and honeycomb structures within its internal superstructure allowed the ships to take a brutal beating and remain functional, even if most of the armour was lost, and every compartment was breached.

 

The construction, however, made it costly to maintain. This, combined with its lacking offensive power, meant the _Halcyon-_ class cruisers soon fell out of favour. It was only when the war began that a number of the vessels were pulled from storage to be refitted.

 

“Which way to the bridge, Admiral?” Evangeline asked, turning to face Stanforth.

 

“Follow me, Commander.”

 

Together, they walked in silence through the abandoned corridors and hallways of the mothballed warship, the only noise other than their footsteps being the occasional groan and creak of metal in the distance. There wasn't much left to the ship other than the hull – the MAC, reactor, engines, slipspace drive, and the 50mm point-defence guns had been long removed from the cruiser, leaving behind an empty shell. And with Reach's overabundance of titanium, no-one was in a hurry to melt _Valor's_ hull down to reuse it, either.

 

It was about fifteen minutes later that they reached the bridge, with Evangeline immediately wandering forwards, leaning closer to each and every console, soon mock-berating non-existent crewmen for sloppiness, proudly strutting about as she did so. Her escapade was brought to a jarring halt when she remembered that Stanforth was present. The aforementioned Admiral said nothing, instead bearing a knowing smile on his face.

 

Evangeline coughed awkwardly before making her way over to the main viewscreen, leaning against its console. She finally spoke several seconds later.

 

“You know what, Admiral? I think I could get used to this.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Drumpf won the election. Sheeeit, America.


	8. Philosophy 101 with Spartans

2nd of June

Reach

Anchor 4

 

* * *

 

 

“This is an ambitious undertaking, Commander. And I've seen more than a few.” Doctor Robert McLees announced as Evangeline finished her argument.

 

“That's why we brought you here, Doctor. You designed the _Halcyon-_ class cruisers. Your expertise will be invaluable during the refit.” The black-haired woman answered, arms crossed across her chest.

 

“You flatter me, Commander.” The old man chuckled. “Although I'm curious about all the secrecy.”

 

“No point in raising anyone's hopes until we've got proof the new tech works.”

 

“I suppose that makes sense.” McLees nodded. “If I may suggest, the first order of the business should be to make _Valor_ airtight again, or at least sections of her. That way, we can get technicians to start bringing the wiring and electronics up to scratch. Once that is out of the way, the engines and reactor can be installed.”

 

“That sounds good.” Evangeline nodded in return as McLees opened the files pertaining to the prototype hydrogen fusion reactor.

 

“Oh. This is different.” The man frowned, leaning closer to the glowing screen. “It's not powered by deuterium-deuterium fusion?”

 

“Nope. Is that going to be problematic?”

 

“We use hydrogen reactors, yes, but never to power starships. A hydrogen fusion reactor requires a cooling system that's just not practical to be installed on anything spacebound, which relegates them solely to planetside use, to provide power to cities and orbital defence platforms.”

 

“In that case, take a closer look at the schematics.”

 

McLees did as instructed, his eyebrows rising a moment later.

 

“This looks like no fusion reactor I've ever seen before. I'm starting to see why UNSC want to keep this under wraps.”

 

Evangeline watched silently as the man intently scrutinised each and every file, examining all of the blueprints developed by Cortana, and thoroughly refined with Huragok aid. It wasn't until the aged ship designer reached the blueprints for the Frame Shift Drive and shield generator that she finally got a response out of him.

 

“I think I need to sit down.” McLees muttered, numb with surprise. “This is... this...” Words failed him as he feebly gestured to the screen.

 

“Now you know why I wanted you for this, Doctor. No-one else knows these ships like you. That, and I hoped you'd want to show up everyone who mocked the _Halcyon-_ class. You designed one hell of a tough ship, after all.”

 

“I might just be going stupid with old age, but that sounds really damn tempting.” McLees chuckled dryly, rubbing his withered hands together. “Alright, Commander. I'll do everything I can to aid. When do we start?”

 

“Right now, Doctor. Let's get cracking.”

 

* * *

 

 

15th of June

Reach

High orbit

 

* * *

 

 

McLees watched from his shuttle as a number of remote-controlled drones equipped with fusion torches cut five long, slanted gaps into the Titanium-A armour plating at _Valor's_ aft. On the other side, more drones were performing the same task, in preparation for the installation of high-performance radiators.

 

The concept was not alien to McLees. However, to efficiently vent the heat produced by a ship's reactor, radiators need to be exposed to space, which in turn would leave them vulnerable enemy fire. And no radiators meant no reactor cooling. No reactor cooling meant ship go asplode.

 

The answer to this problem came in the shape of energy shielding. More surprisingly, it was not, in fact, reverse-engineered from the Covenant. It was purely a human creation. When he'd inquired about its origins, Commander Graves had only said 'it's classified'. Despite his suspicions, he was impressed by the design – when installed and powered, the protective envelope generated would supposedly be able to absorb well in the excess of 7,000,000 megajoules of energy before breaking. While there was no hard data to compare it to the energy shields used by the Covenant, it did have the advantage of not needing to lower sections of the shield to fire the weapons.

 

Which brought him to the cruiser's weaponry – the Magnetic Accelerator Cannon, a massive coilgun that could accelerate slugs of tungsten or depleted uranium weighing hundreds of tons to a fraction of lightspeed. _Valor's_ new MAC was a brand new model, modified with a number of magnetic field recyclers that would let the weapon retain some of its charge, and cut down the charge time for the next shot.

 

The hardpoints for the 50mm point-defence guns were being prepared to receive the mountings for even more prototype weaponry – thirty laser turrets and ten railguns, the latter of which were to fire 250-kilogram slugs of superheated aluminium.

 

Neither were all that uncommon in the UNSC – many a mining vessel utilized heavy-duty lasers to carve up resource-rich asteroids for ease of processing, and more than one colony used mass drivers to put all kinds of cargo into orbit. However, little headway had been made in reducing the lasers' power requirements to make them practical as weapons, and only the _Punic-_ class supercarriers fielded mini-MACs as secondary weapons due to similar power consumption problems.

 

The audacity of the refit was, in its entirety, equal parts inspiring and worrisome – moreso when Commander Graves reassured him that the technology that was to be implemented worked, though not on this kind of a scale.

 

* * *

 

 

26th of June

Reach

UNSC Valor

 

* * *

 

 

Dozens of square metres of armour plating had been removed from _Valor's_ aft to permit the installation of the new reactor. Even a passing glance would reveal that the various components were not of a run-of-the-mill deuterium-fuelled power plant. Heavy reactor shielding, forged to exacting specifications, each and every square micron of it scanned for imperfections, awaited its turn as dozens of engineers prepared the reactor mountings.

 

The silent engine room was illuminated by a myriad spotlights and the flash of fusion torches as Evangeline instructed the small tugs manoeuvring the heavy, unwieldy pieces into place.

 

“Move ten metres to right. To _your_ right, pilot. Roll left, sixteen degrees. Yaw up, thirteen degrees. Alright, you're golden. Keep moving forwards for eight seconds, then hold your position.”

 

About two-hundred metres off to the side, a freighter was waiting with the rest of the reactor components – superconducting magnets, thermal conduits, heavy-duty wiring, the whole nine yards. Soon as the first shield segment was in its place, the proverbial guts and gizzards of the reactor would be installed before the rest of the shielding was to be attached. After that, all that remained to do was to connect the reactor to _Valor's_ power grid and radiators and commence a tentative test-firing of the reactor. If all went fine and they didn't end up with a lump of molten slag, the shield generator and FSD would be installed, being that everything hinged on the reactor being operational.

 

No pressure, right?

 

* * *

 

 

30th of June

Reach

Anchor 4

 

* * *

 

 

This was the day of reckoning. Today it would be decided whether the project would sink or float.

 

A veritable cluster of thick, heavy cables stretched from _Anchor 4_ towards the _Valor,_ meant to kickstart the reactor, while a pair of large fuel cisterns temporarily welded to cruiser's flank held hydrogen scooped straight from the star Epsilon Eridani, courtesy of _Hyperion._ There was enough for roughly five hours of idling at lowest sustainable output. To ensure the ensuing plasma exhaust did not melt anything, a number of tubes were installed to redirect the plasma flow outside the cruiser's hull, where it couldn't cause any damage.

 

“Would you like to do the honours, Doctor?” Evangeline offered, gesturing to the control panel which would initiate the boot-up sequence. A hundred metres away from the viewport, the last few one-man shuttles and remote-controlled drones lighted away from _Valor._

 

“I'd be delighted to, Commander.” McLees nodded excitedly and stepped closer to the panel.

 

Without further ado, buttons were pressed, bated breaths were held, and hands were wrung anxiously. Even though Cortana had proclaimed the reactor's design viable after running simulations round the clock ever since _Valor_ had been brought into orbit, Evangeline still worried. No simulation, however good, could accurately account for everything.

 

“ _We have activation. Magnetic containment field active and holding at 100% integrity. Temperature and power output rising. Redirecting power to maintain reactor containment, cutting the power supply from_ Anchor 4.” An announcement rung throughout the refit station's intercom. _“All readings nominal, bringing the reactor up to ten percent. Current fuel consumption rate is sixteen-point-nine-two tons per hour. Radiators are online and operating, current head load is six-point-three percent.”_

 

Sure enough, the banks of radiators were glowing, albeit a dull, barely noticeable red. The pipes sticking out from _Valor's_ exposed engine room were emitting a plume of translucent blue plasma, but without exhaust manifolds and thruster nozzles to shape and channel it, the plasma expanded in a formless cloud that dissipated soon thereafter.

 

“ _The reactor is self-sustaining. I repeat, the reactor is self-sustaining and stable. The readings are green across the board.”_

 

Evangeline let out a relieve sigh, her shoulders slumping. To her left, McLees was grinning widely, rubbing his hands together.

 

With the reactor having proven itself operational, the remainder of the refit had been kicked into overdrive – the components for the engines, shield generator and FSD were assembled post-haste before being loaded onto the fastest freighters Stanforth could find, to be shipped off to Reach. Even at their best speeds, it would be a couple of days before they reached their destination. And while Stanforth had no missions to assign _Hyperion_ to, it was not to say that its crew sat idle.

 

* * *

 

 

1st of July

Reach

Station Gamma

 

* * *

 

 

“Alright, check this out.” Evangeline grinned before pointing behind the Spartan in shock. “Kelly, look out!”

 

The supersoldier turned her head to look behind her, and Evangeline moved with intent to sweep the Spartan's legs out from under her.

 

_Thump._

 

“Check what out, Commander? The part where you get laid out again? Is that the part you wanted for me to check out?” Kelly chuckled teasingly before offering her a hand.

 

“Oh, shut up.” Evangeline huffed, pulling herself upright, wincing as she felt her spine pop. “That's going to hurt like a bitch in the morning.”

 

“Well, it was you who wanted to spar with a Spartan, Commander.” Kelly shrugged.

 

“I did, and I got my ass thoroughly kicked for my trouble.” Evangeline agreed.

 

Off to the left, Johnson was busy leading the ship's Marine complement through an exercise regime that would probably make Herbert Sobel jealous – jumping jacks, push-ups, crunches, squats, the whole nine yards. The Marines would – and did – complain, but they would be thankful for it when their lives hung in balance and it came down to being able to push themselves to the limit. _Hyperion_ was fated to often operate deep behind enemy lines, with little chance of back-up. It would be up to themselves to get out of trouble if things got hairy.

 

The only reason Evangeline was exempt from the gruelling training was because more often than not, she was busy commandeering the refit project. _UNSC Cassiopeia_ , two _Halberd-_ class destroyers, a _Charon-_ class, a _Paris-_ class and a pair of _Stalwart-_ class frigates had recently arrived in Epsilon Eridani, and were currently being prepared for the refit. Unlike _Valor,_ which had been little more than an empty hull before it received a second lease of life, the new arrivals were functional, and merely required to have their engines, reactors, and slipspace drives swapped out, followed by the installation of fuel scoops.

 

All the same, it kept her very busy – she was akin to a wraith haunting _Hyperion,_ working late into waking hours, appearing in the common room at the most random of times, getting a meal from the food printer before returning to her quarters. More than one crewman had been given a start when she shuffled past them, oblivious to her surroundings, with a plastic tray grasped in her hands.

 

Of course, more than a few of the crew weren't too happy to realise their commanding officer had all the deliberation of a zombie – when she did deign to interact with the people under her command, the conversations turned clipped and terse. More than once, an attempt had been made to corner her – as per her own mandate regarding oafish behaviour of the ship's CO – but the woman always seemed to slip through their net. It made sense, unfortunately, being that Evangeline knew the ship better than anyone else. Even Cortana was frustrated by the Commander simply dropping off the grid at a whim.

 

Luckily, her luck didn't last longer than a week. I know, it's ironic.

 

* * *

 

 

8th of July

Reach

UNSC Hyperion

 

* * *

 

 

Evangeline grimaced after downing the last of her coffee.

 

Coffee.

 

She didn't even like the stuff. And it took a particularly dim individual to dick about in deep space while caffeinated to a point where all you've accomplished is increasing your heart rate with no changes in exhaustion.

 

Grumbling, she wearily trudged into the common room, freezing on the spot as she saw Linda enter as well, a steaming mug held in her hands. Before she could so much as move a muscle, the Spartan spoke.

 

“Commander. We need to have a talk.” Linda gestured to one of the chairs. “Sit down.” It was not a request. Evangeline, more than a little stunned, did as instructed, while the Spartan sat down across from her, setting the mug down on the table.

 

She was kind of regretting that free speech policy right about now, as the red-haired woman opposite of her did her best to stare her down, the stoic supersoldier's gaze never faltering.

 

“Well, what the hell is it that you want me to say?” Evangeline exclaimed angrily. “That I'm in over my head? That I don't know jack shit about what I've signed up for?”

 

“I want the truth, Commander.” Linda coolly stated, arms folded across her chest as she leaned back in her chair, still regarding the other woman calmly. Evangeline glared at her angrily, as if hoping to intimidate the Spartan. It wasn't very effective. Before long, she let out a resigned sigh, her anger ebbing.

 

“The truth, huh? Alright...” Evangeline rubbed her eyes tiredly. “The truth is that I'm not used to having so much hope riding on me. When I was flying solo, it was just my life at risk. If I fucked up, it'd be just me lost to the void. Just another day, far as rest of the galaxy is concerned. But here? If I mess up anywhere with the refit, my credibility will be ruined, and the credibility of the prototypes. And we just can't have that kind of a fiasco. So if I have to go without a good night's sleep to make sure everything works as intended, so be it.”

 

“Whether or not your plan pans out, Commander, people are still going to die.” Linda retorted.

 

“No fucking shit, Sherlock!” The other woman snapped angrily. “You think I don't know that? When this war's going to be over, there'll be millions and millions of people who'll have lost someone dear to them!”

 

“According to the most recent estimates, the death toll currently is over twenty billion.” Linda corrected Evangeline matter-of-factly.

 

And immediately regretted it, as the Commander's expression morphed into that of pure horror.

 

“T-twenty... billion?” Evangeline repeated, the disbelief in her voice palpable.

 

Therein lay the core of the problem – Commander Graves was wholly unaccustomed to the atrocities the Covenant committed. Every member of the UNSC, despite the odds stacked against them, was grimly determined to fight until the bitter end. The woman in question, however, came from a time and place where quality of life had been vastly improved, with food shortages alleviated via usage of synthetic food, and a great deal of diseases had been eradicated. Even during her military service, she had never experienced war on this kind of scale - and it showed.

 

Of course, saying that out loud would not help the woman who was on the verge of having a panic attack.

 

“Remain seated.” Linda stood up, picking up Evangeline's mug as she did so. Walking over to the food printer, she took the time to inspect the mug – it was heavy, made of metal, 'I MADE IT TO HUTTON ORBITAL' printed on its side. Oddly, it was slightly warm to the touch despite no obvious heat source. She set it down on a small white square painted on the food printer's console – immediately, it was sprayed with a faint mist that evaporated a second later. With the mug sterilised, she rummaged through a cupboard in search, pulling out a small tinfoil pack moments later. Dropping a handful of its contents into the mug, she then filled it with hot water, plucking a plastic spoon from a dispenser.

 

“Drink this.” Once the tea was ready, she offered it to Evangeline, who was still in too much of a shock to object.

 

Both drank their beverages in not-quite-companionable silence. Linda took the time to re-evaluate her approach to dealing with this issue. The mistake on her part was to hold Commander Graves to UNSC training standards. The woman was an officer, yes, but she had not been through over twenty-five years of war of attrition. And training her in the appropriate UNSC tactics would take time. Time which they did not have.

 

It would be foolish to call her naïve, either. What she'd initially seen as misguided naivete was actually a character trait that was seldom seen in the UNSC – optimism. Many a man and woman fighting in the war had become increasingly fatalistic as the conflict dragged on, too concerned with the war to even consider what would come after. In a way, Linda felt angry with herself for not being more tactful. She wished Chief Mendez were here. He'd know what to say.

 

 _And if wishes grew on trees, life would be a paradise, yet here we are,_ she thought to herself. It'd be up to her and her alone to salvage the situation.

 

“The war has not been particularly easy on us, yes.” Linda spoke again as she emptied her mug. “We've taken tremendous casualties, and our defeats outnumber our victories. But we will not bow down, Commander. We'll fight until the end, come what may.”

 

“Then I don't see why I should take it easy, either.” Evangeline set her mug down a moment later.

 

“Because everyone has their breaking point, Commander.” Linda answered, doing her best to keep her tone soft – she was not speaking to a fellow Spartan or Marine this time. She was speaking to a woman thrown into a hostile world and burdened with a great responsibility. “And if you reach yours, it'll be more than just your life in peril. It'll be your crew's, too. After all, a ship's crew trust their commander to not place them in undue danger. And if you're not at your best, even the smallest mistake can have costly consequences.”

 

Evangeline considered the Spartan's words thoughtfully, running her finger along her Hutton Mug's rim.

 

“I just don't like the thought of standing by as someone else runs roughshod over other people just because they can.” The black-haired woman quietly spoke moments later. “I've killed so many pirates I've lost count, but I don't regret any of it. They go after defenceless miners who aren't bothering anyone. And then they have the gall to whine about how their 'kids will have to go on empty stomachs' when their targets don't have anything good on them. Because it's not like the miners don't have any loved ones they need to support or anything. Goddamn hypocrites. I've fought until my ship's cannons were out of ammo and structural integrity was in tatters. But with every bounty I collected, there was one less scumbag to take advantage of honest, hard-working people.”

 

“A commendable attitude, Commander, but you can't keep throwing punches forever. Eventually you'll tire and the enemy will not give you any respite.”

 

“It feels like we've been here before. Have we been here before?” Evangeline muttered bemusedly.

 

“You tell me, Commander.” Linda shrugged, letting out the slightest of smiles.

 

“Alright.” Evangeline took a sip from her mug. “Let's make a deal – I'll do as you say, take a break and whatnot. In return, I want you to answer one question for me. Don't worry, it won't be about anything that's classified.”

 

“Ask away, Commander.” Linda shrugged again.

 

“Do you believe that we can win this war? Even with my prototype tech?”

 

Linda blinked at that, clearly not expecting that sort of a question.

 

“That's a complicated question to answer, Commander. Even before your arrival, our chances of even a pyrrhic victory were remote, at best. Enough ships outfitted with your technology could turn the war overnight. Our strategists and tacticians would find themselves rewriting all of our naval engagement rules. Nonetheless, there are many variables which could impede our efforts.”

 

“I sense a 'but' somewhere in there.” Evangeline interjected.

 

“While I have yet to make up my mind, I believe that you believe in victory, Commander. And maybe, that'll be enough.”

 

Evangeline blinked before looking down at her hands, letting out a thoughtful hum.

 

“You know, I thought that snipers were supposed to be the quiet and solitary ones.” She looked back up at Linda a moment later.

 

“Yet here I am, giving you a pep talk in the middle of the night, Commander.” The Spartan shrugged in a what-can-you-do manner. “Life's funny like that.”

 

Evangeline couldn't stop herself from laughing.

 


	9. Ackerson's not a people person

11th of July

Reach

UNSC Valor

 

* * *

 

The cruiser had undergone a dramatic transformation from its sorry state – its hull was criss-crossed with carbon scoring from hundreds of cuts and welds of various sizes. A quartet of angular fuel scoops had been installed amidships, two on each side. A number of plasma thrusters had replaced the triamino hydrazine rockets that once were responsible for small-scale manoeuvring, while the main engines had also been refitted, several modifications improving their efficiency.

 

The empty turret mounts were now filled by thirty dual-barrelled beam lasers, and ten triple-rail railguns, the latter of which were strategically placed – two on top and bottom, and three on each side. At any given moment, _Valor_ could bring at least five railguns to bear on any target within effective range.

 

As an added bonus, its lacking missile complement was bolstered by the addition of 50 Archer missile pods, each of which held 30 missiles. To alleviate for the Covenant's impressive point-defence capabilities, a new type of missile was in development, which would, in theory, generate thousands of ghost signatures to hamper their systems.

 

Thought not yet active, the shield generator and FSD had been installed, and would be brought online soon. These two technologies would be crucial in ensuring that UNSC warships were capable of matching their Covenant equivalents, instead of relying on greater numbers.

 

And last, but not least, the shipboard computer systems received software that Cortana had made from scratch, a melding of Federal and UNSC programming. Without it, _Valor_ would be very much just an expensive paperweight.

 

Evangeline swiped her hand across the main display, the readouts replaced by an image of Reach and its two moons – Csodaszarvas and Turul. She swiped again, the images replaced by the status icons of the small refit fleet –the cruiser _Cassiopeia,_ destroyers _Iroquois_ and _Desert Fox,_ and frigates _Whiskey Phoenix, Tannenberg, Amaranthine, Wicker Man._ All glowed a healthy green.

 

“All ships, this is Commander Graves speaking. On my mark, activate your shield generators.” She addressed all the ships, simultaneously pressing several buttons across the redesigned control panel. “Mark.” One last button was pressed and the previously-inert shield capacity readout came to life, with a pulsating red glow indicating that yes, indeed, the shields were down. But with the warship still being docked at _Anchor 4,_ additional power flowed into its systems, accelerating the the process. Soon enough, a small square, indicative of shield regeneration, was chasing itself in the corner of the screen, letting out a ping with every circle it completed. The same blips had manifested on the other ships' readouts – the frigates and destroyers, being the smaller ships, could bring their shields online faster.

 

“ _This is_ Amaranthine _speaking. Our shields are online. Strength at 50% and rising.”_

 

“Iroquois _here. Shield generator active, all readings nominal.”_

 

Four more announcements followed as the commanders of their respective ships reported the activation of their shields. It wasn't much longer before _Valor's_ protective envelope manifested itself, along with _Cassiopeia's._

 

A round of applause went around _Valor's_ bridge as the cruiser's loaned bridge crew cheered their success. Admiral Stanforth was busy assembling a full crew to supplement the barely-staffed ship, but had temporarily put Evangeline in command of the cruiser, to put the ship through its paces in the Epsilon Eridani system.

 

“Alright, good job! But we're not done yet. Undock from your stations and power up your FSDs whenever ready.” Taking a couple of moments to ensure no one was using the airlock connecting _Valor_ to _Anchor 4,_ she initiated the undocking procedure. A series of dull clangs echoed through the cruiser's hull as the umbilical and power cables retracted from the warship. “Let's get going, helmsman. Quarter speed.”

 

The crewman in one of the two recently-installed pilot's chairs nodded, pushing the throttle to 25%, tilting the control yoke to push the cruiser further away from the space station. The engines, previously idling with a soft rumble, rose to a dull, but steady roar, and everyone on board held onto something as they felt the gees.

 

“Alright. Bringing the Frame Shift Drive online... now.” She pressed a button, reflexively cringing, half-expecting to be launched a thousand parsecs above the galactic plane.

 

Nothing happened – aside from the soft glow of seven ships' status icons, reporting to her that the activation had gone just as seamlessly.

 

“Mm.” She hummed to herself before opening a channel to the rest of the small fleet. “All ships, move away from your respective stations until you're no longer mass-locked, and activate your FSDs. Admiral Stanforth has set up a small firing range for us in high orbit around Turul. We'll check that out first before testing the fuel scoops and hyper-jump capabilities. Go to supercruise at your discretion.”

 

A chorus of acknowledgements issued from the speakers.

 

“We're out of mass-lock. Destination locked in, ma'am.” The helmsman piped up. “We're ready to go on your order.”

 

Evangeline smiled, leaning slightly forward.

 

“Make it so.”

 

There was a flash of light about two-hundred metres off _Valor's_ prow – a tumultuous tempest of dark clouds and lightning manifested itself into existence, warping the very space with its presence. The engines growled, pushing the massive warship forward, and everyone present could only stare in silent awe as the background of space was replaced with pitch black darkness before returning to normal. The engines had gone silent, their thrum replaced with the soft whine of the cruise drives that ensured speedy and efficient movement while in supercruise.

 

“We're moving at thirty kilometres an hour. I am detecting seven other signatures matching ours. They are heading for Turul.” Sure enough, two comet-like objects zoomed past them, their glowing tails sending out waves of energized particles that softly hissed against _Valor's_ shields.

 

“The Admiral's going to flip when he sees this.” Evangeline murmured to herself. “Let's catch up to them, then.”

 

“Aye-aye, ma'am.” The helmsman replied excitedly – a moment later, _Valor_ surged forward gently, the acceleration barely noticeable as the ship effortlessly gained speed. The further out from a stellar object's gravity well the ship was, the higher speeds it could reach, and a ship equipped with an FSD kicked things like Hohmann trajectories and launch windows out the door and laughed in their stupid faces before hanging out with the cool kids, brachistochrone transfers.

 

_UNSC Valor_ now was a monument to overcompensation made of concentrated go-fast that would have made anyone in the now-defunct NASA's JPL wet themselves with more than one kind of bodily fluid. And if anyone from HIGHCOM complained about it, she wouldn't hold herself responsible for what she did.

 

* * *

 

Jacob Keyes felt a chill crawl across his skin as he saw the prow of _UNCS Cassiopeia_ appear from the pitch-black thundercloud. The aural emulators, installed to help the destroyer's crew with spatial awareness, let out the most dreadful dirge as the rest of the super-heavy cruiser appeared. A pair of bright flashes and rumble of thunder heralded the arrival of _Tannenberg_ and _Wicker Man. Desert Fox, Amaranthine,_ and _Whiskey Phoenix_ followed soon thereafter. _Valor_ was the last to arrive, repeating _Cassiopeia's_ ominous appearance.

 

Keyes had to admit – it was one hell of a sight, and not just because it looked pretty. It was also very accurate. In-system slipspace jumps were near-impossible, since they could land you either at your destination, or inside of a star. But with the FSDs, they could go pretty much wherever they wanted, and the Covenant supposedly couldn't do much about it.

 

“ _Glad to see everyone's arrived safe and sound. Now, feel free to pick your targets – there's plenty to choose from, all the way from asteroids to bits of scrapped ships. Fire off a few volleys, see what your arcs of fire are, that sort of stuff.”_

 

“Sounds good. Lieutenant Hikowa, pick your targets, open fire when ready.”

 

“Aye-aye, sir.” The woman nodded as she typed a series of commands into her station. Mere moments later, eight laser turrets twisted in their mounts, bright red beams lancing out to carve glowing scars into a pair of asteroids and a length of Titanium-A armour plating. A quick look at the external cameras revealed the rest of the ships were doing the same – frigates and destroyers danced around their targets, lasers glowing brightly, shearing chunks off their targets. _Cassiopeia_ and _Valor_ were pummelling a particularly huge asteroid into pieces with their railguns, lumps of hypersonic, white-hot aluminium digging deep furrows into the rock.

 

Keyes nodded silently in approval, fiddling with the old pipe in his pocket – with the new reactors, powering the laser weapons became virtually a non-concern. They could keep firing until the radiators became overworked. And the predicted calculations by that AI, Cortana, showed the heat could be dispersed at an enviable rate if given the chance to do so. Already, his brain was working overtime to create new tactics made viable by the new technology.

 

“Laser weaponry performing well within the predicted parameters, sir. I can detect no fluctuations or imperfections from any of the turrets.”

 

“All shipboard systems operating as intended. The refit seems to have done a lot good for _Iroquois,_ sir.” Lieutenant Hall announced from her station.

 

“Good, good. Alright, cease fire and bring us to a halt.” A moment passed before _Iroquois_ ceased to move, and it seemed to react faster than before the refit. Most of that could be credited to the fact that much of the lead foil had been removed from the destroyer's hull – less mass meant better speed and agility, after all.

 

“ _To all ships – I am delighted to announce that everyone's weapons are performing as intended. Now, I want you to pick a buddy to take a couple of pot-shots at. Make sure to record it – computer logs, external camera recordings, that sort of stuff. Once we're docked, I'll go over the data, see if there's any calibration needs doing.”_

 

It didn't take long before the space between the ships was lit by flashes of lasers – beams of energy struck the barriers, crackling as they did so, but the shields effectively stopped any damage from getting through

 

Keyes, outwardly impassive, watched as the shield strength slowly drained away as _Tannenberg_ rolled past, the frigate's turrets chipping away at the destroyer's shields. Lieutenant Hikowa was busy returning the favour. A couple of kilometres away, _Cassiopeia_ and _Valor_ were duking it out, unleashing broadside after broadside at each other. Still, their shields held strong.

 

On the inside, however, his mind was racing a mile a minute – this was a monumental event. Much like penicillin and Rosetta Stone, the new technologies would bring about immense change. And if they could refit as many ships as possible, the Covenant would be in for a rude awakening. They could turn the war in mere weeks, if not days.

 

“ _All ships, cease fire. Things are looking good so far. And last, but not least, fuel scooping and hyperjumps. Back to supercruise, everyone. We'll do a couple of loops around the sun and fill up the tanks before jumping to Barnard's Star and back.”_

 

Just as before, it didn't take long to go to supercruise and orient themselves towards Epsilon Eridani. The old sub-light engines were, once again, laughed into their faces as the eight ships hurtled towards the main-sequence star at superluminal speeds.

 

They could outrun _light,_ of all things. The realization filled Keyes with something akin to giddy joy. Even the most-distant stellar objects now lay within their reach.

 

“ _Listen up, people, and listen good. When you get close to a star, a green line will appear around it. That's the exclusion zone. You hit the zone, you'll get yanked out from supercruise. So keep your ship's nose pointing away from it, away from the star. Once you're deep enough in the corona, the fuel scoops will engage and, well, do what their name suggests. Of course, being as close to the star as you will be, your ship will suck up a lot of heat. Most of that will be taken care of by the radiators – you may want to dive in deeper to scoop more fuel, but you'll be taking on a lot more heat, too. And before long, the radiators will get backed up and you don't want that to happen. So be sure to zero the throttle when the scoops are running at half or two-thirds capacity – then, your only concern will be mildly uncomfortable temperatures.”_

 

Keyes wasn't unfamiliar with how vast the universe was – much like anyone else with even a fleeting passion for things astronomical, he'd seen graphs and charts detailing vast, distant stellar objects that beggared belief – such as a supermassive black hole with an even horizon of almost 120 billion kilometres.

 

But seeing Epsilon Eridani grow bigger and bigger through the windows was an immensely humbling experience – ahead of _Iroquois, Whiskey Phoenix_ and _Wicker Man_ rushed forth, their comet-like tails barely-visible against the harsh glare of the K-class star. Even Jaggers was roused from his torpor as a pair of dull clunks resonated through the destroyer's hull, a holographic readout popping up on the main window, displaying heat load, fuel level, and intake rate. The star's massive curvature took up most of the view outside, solar winds scraping and howling across the shields.

 

“Ain't that a sight...” Even usually-dour Dominique was visibly impressed – hell, everyone on the bridge was staring at the the star, which was a stone's throw away, considering. The heat load had settled at a reasonable 62%, with almost 33 tons of hydrogen being added to the destroyer's fuel tanks with every passing second. The fuel level gauge crawled across the window, slowly but steadily. It had a certain appeal to it, Keyes reasoned – to draw fuel straight from a star. That, and it could make every UNSC ship independent of deuterium refineries, further improving their mobility.

 

A collective gasp rose from everyone on the bridge as a coronal loop extended itself from the star's surface – Keyes, feeling daring, chose that moment to gun the engines, sending _Iroquois_ straight through the loop. Even at half throttle, his ship had no problems pulling away from the star, and he found himself fighting back a smile.

 

“ _Well, since none of you are being boiled alive in a star's corona, I think that's another thing I can cross off my checklist. And now, for the big finale – the hyperjump, a la Star Trek.”_

 

“Nav, lock in destination – Barnard's Star. Align us with the target and initiate jump at your discretion.” Jaggers fumbled with the controls for a moment, unaccustomed to the new interface, before completing the task. _Iroquois_ gracefully swung about, hurtling through space at almost ten times the speed of light as the crosshairs aligned.

 

“Charging Frame Shift Drive, sir. Twenty seconds until jump.” Jaggers announced anxiously as the thrum of _Iroquois'_ FSD built up steadily. On the sensors, the signals of _Desert Fox, Tannenberg,_ and _Cassiopeia_ winked out as they jumped away.

 

Keyes gripped his chair tighter as the cone of energy built up around _Iroquois'_ prow, the timer inexorably ticking down to zero. There was a flash of light as the destroyer was flung into witchspace, a myriad pinpricks of light zooming past the warship.

 

“Is it just me, or am I hearing voices?” Hall announced, shifting about uneasily in her chair.

 

“It's not just you, Lieutenant. Though I wouldn't quite call them voices.” Keyes muttered, looking about – the odd howls and hisses were coming from _outside_ the ship. A phenomenon of witchspace, perhaps? In any case, he didn't get much time to ruminate on this as the titular Barnard's Star abruptly filled the windows – three signals were already waiting for them, and four more appeared moments later.

 

“We just jumped almost sixteen light-years in a matter of seconds...” Hikowa muttered in shock. “I think I need to lie down.”

 

Understatement, thy name be Aki Hikowa.

 

* * *

 

12th of July

Jackson's Lighthouse

UNSC Hyperion

 

* * *

 

“That's a neutron star.” Whitcomb announced, disbelief clear in his voice.

 

“It sure is, sir.” Evangeline nodded. “Jackson's Lighthouse.”

 

“I don't think that's this star's actual name, Commander.” Stanforth added quietly, his eyes glued to the rapidly-rotating stellar remnant half a light-second away.

 

“Well, has anyone ever visited it before?”

 

“No, I don't think so.” The grizzled Admiral shook his head.

 

“Jackson's Lighthouse it is, then. I call dibs.”

 

“While it makes for a pretty sight, it can't be all you brought us out here for.” Stanforth turned to look at Evangeline.

 

“Just a little demonstration, Admirals. I'd have chosen Sirius B, but I don't think it'd have the same impression. We'll be performing a BLAMO manoeuvre.”

 

“'BLAMO', Commander?” Whitcomb questioned.

 

“Boosted Long Ambit Magnetic Overcharge. Flying through the energy jet of a white dwarf or a neutron star to supercharge the FSD for a single jump. Neutron stars will boost the FSD by 300%, which would amplify _Hyperion's_ 44.6 light-year jump range to 178 light-years and change. Just about enough to get us to Earth in a single jump.”

 

Whitcomb let out an impressed whistle at that, while Stanforth remained doubtful.

 

“Might be just me, but that doesn't sound like a very safe thing to do.”

 

“If you don't know what you're doing, it's almost always fatal.” Evangeline nodded in agreement. “Flying towards the star while in the jet will rip your ship apart like so much wet cardboard. The trick is to enter the jet at an angle that takes you away from the star, then it's quite safe – if nerve-wracking - to do.” She took a moment to toggle the intercom. “All hands, this is the Commander speaking. We will be experiencing severe turbulence shortly, so hold onto something. I mean it – we're going to get tossed about like a ragdoll.”

 

The two Admirals gripped their chairs tighter as the corvette drew closer cone of ejected energy. Whatever they'd expected the turbulence to be, it was much worse – _Hyperion's_ hull creaked and groaned under the immense stresses exerted upon it by the neutron star. A number of warnings popped up on the screens, but Evangeline duly ignored them all, wrestling with the controls.

 

A string of letters flashed across the windows, but the ship was shaking too badly for anyone to understand what it said. However, Evangeline immediately gunned the throttle, exiting the tumultuous jet seconds later.

 

“And it's good – BLAMO completed.” Evangeline announced cheerfully, as if they hadn't just experienced a brush with death. “Next stop – Sol.”

 

* * *

 

Sol

UNSC Hyperion

 

* * *

 

“178 light-years in under a minute. It would've taken one of our ships over two months to make the same trip.” Stanforth let out a humourless chuckle as _Hyperion_ hurtled around the Sun. “I think it's safe to say we've got this in the bag.”

 

“That may be so, Admiral, but I don't think there's any harm in a practical demonstration – sweeten the deal, as it were. We'll need a lot of funding and resources to refit as many ships as possible.”

 

“I hear that, Commander.” Whitcomb nodded in agreement. “Don't know about anyone else, but I'll vouch for you. This is definitely the kind of a game changer we need. The brass would have to be crazy not to spring for it.”

 

“Well, let's hope that they're not that crazy just yet, sir.”

 

* * *

 

 

Sol

Near ODP Houston

 

* * *

 

 

Evangeline rolled _Hyperion_ from side to side – the Longsword to her right waggled its wings in return, and she smiled, glad to know some greetings were universal. Ahead of the corvette, the Orbital Defence Platform Houston loomed imposingly, its massive Super MAC on clear display. Few weapons in UNSC's arsenal were as destructive, but due to their atrocious power consumption, the only ships capable of fielding them were the _Punic-_ class supercarriers.

 

The two Longswords escorting her kept a close pace as she followed the route laid out by Cortana, towards one of the ODP's hangar bays. It'd be a tight fit – an ODP was little more than a giant gun with thrusters strapped to its ass. But she had experience when it came to fitting big things into small spaces.

 

Ha.

 

Her escorts peeled away seconds before the corvette's prow entered the hangar, a number of spacesuit-wearing crewmen scurrying away from under the warship's imposing shape.

 

_Hyperion_ made it inside, if only barely – there were less than five metres of free space behind it when the airlock was closed. Manoeuvring thrusters flared briefly, keeping the vessel aloft as the landing gear was deployed, before being mag-locked to the floor.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking. We have reached our destination.” Evangeline spoke through the intercom in a smooth and professional tone. “Be aware that the luggage in the overhead racks may have moved during transit. We hope you enjoyed your flight with _Hyperion Airlines.”_

 

“ _My peanuts were stale!”_

 

“ _The in-flight entertainment program sucked!”_

 

Evangeline chuckled as she unbuckled herself from her chair.

 

“Smartasses... just don't wander off too far from the ship, alright? Or, if you do, make sure to tell Cortana. I might be gone for a while. Or we might just get sent packing. We'll see how it turns out.”

 

* * *

 

Half a dozen heads turned to look at her as she followed Stanforth into the room. Whitcomb veered to the side, taking one of the empty chairs.

 

“Commander Graves. It's good to finally meet you in person. Please, take a seat.” A man bearing the rank of Fleet Admiral gestured to one of the chairs. She obediently did as ordered – she was outranked by everyone else present.

 

“I am Fleet Admiral Hood. Gathered here today are Vice Admiral Jeromi of the _UNSC Hopeful,_ Major General Strauss of UNSC Army, General Hogan of the UNSC Marine Corps, General Dellert of the UNSC Air Force, and Colonel Ackerson, our liaison with ONI. You've already met Admirals Whitcomb and Stanforth.”

 

Everyone present nodded to her in greeting when Hood introduced them. Everyone, except Ackerson, who stared at her with a calculating look in his eye.

 

She immediately took a dislike to the man.

 

“Honoured to be here, sir.” She replied to Hood. “I imagine you have a few questions to ask of me.”

 

“To put it lightly, Commander, yes. While I do not doubt Admiral Stanforth's honesty, some of the things he mentioned in his report seem... far-fetched, at best.”

 

“Like a starship, replete with advanced technology, capable of crossing great interstellar distances on a whim?” Evangeline suggested.

 

“Can't forget the friendly Covenant, too.” Strauss added. “Commander, by taking those creatures and Covenant technology to Reach, you are in severe breach of Cole Protocol.”

 

“We took everything to be disassembled and checked for tracking devices far from UNSC space, sir. Pleiades Nebula, to be precise. Besides, it's been about two months since then. The Covenant have ample time and opportunity to attack Reach.”

 

Strauss nodded, contemplating her response.

 

“Your logic is sound, Commander. Wherever the Covenant find us, they soon attack in full force. But are you sure those alien creatures – these Huragok – are trustworthy?”

 

“Given that they haven't tried to kill us even once, I'd say so. They don't seem to have a distinction between friend or foe. They just want to repair stuff, or improve it, whichever is necessary. And they've done one hell of a job on my ship.”

 

“Yes, your ship, this... _Hyperion._ Tell us about it, Commander.” Ackerson spoke up, his tone that of barely-concealed disdain.

 

“Well, it's a corvette.” Evangeline fished a holoemitter from her pocket, placing it on the table. With a flick of a switch, it sprung to life, a projection of the Core Dynamics warship hovering a metre above the table. “The Core Dynamics Federal Corvette, to be specific.”

 

“I don't think I've ever heard of an industrial concern by that name.” Admiral Jeromi spoke, confused.

 

“That'd be because I'm from the thirty-fourth century of a different universe, Admiral.”

 

The stunned silence lasted only a second before Ackerson scoffed.

 

“Very funny, Commander.”

 

“Alright, you know what? This is getting us nowhere.” Evangeline sighed, pressing a few keys on her wristpad. “Cortana, is the fleet ready to drop?”

 

“ _Just give the signal, ma'am.”_ The AI responded.

 

“Tell them to perform the drop now.” Closing the comms link, she returned her attention to the rest of her audience. “If sirs would please direct their attention to the window behind them.”

 

Not even five seconds after her words, six flashes of light heralded the arrival of two destroyers and four frigates, followed by the dull roar of two cruisers as they made their presence known less than ten kilometres from the ODP. Immediately, everyone aside from Stanforth, Whitcomb and Evangeline turned to look at the spectacle.

 

“Less than five minutes ago, these ships were in low orbit above Reach. They've been refitted with technology copied and improved from _Hyperion.”_ A number of holo-vids began to play above the table – displayed were the various ships either testing their weapons and shields, scooping fuel, or performing supercruise trials and hyperjumps. “Admiral Stanforth provided the funding, resources, and manpower to carry out the refit. With the help of Cortana, an AI helpfully provided by Doctor Halsey, and the Huragok, it was made possible to recreate _Hyperion's_ technologies on a bigger scale. The ships you see are fully combat-ready.”

 

Even Ackerson had nothing to say.

 

“Alright. I'll bite.” Hood was the first to speak, a contemplative look in his eyes. “What is it that you want, Commander?”

 

“More funding, materials, skilled workers and technicians. Oh, and you'll probably have to make an announcement to the rest of the UNSC about this. People will talk after today, and if you try to keep this under wraps, the more likely a leak is going to happen. So, you know, might as well omit the whole 'from a different universe' thing, and this way, you'll at least ensure that no unnecessary information is made public.”

 

“That goes without saying, Commander.” Hood nodded. “But what do you expect as a reward?”

 

“Ah. Well, I do have a couple of things on my list. Shouldn't be anything outlandish, though.”

 

“Go ahead.”

 

“I'd like to go down to Earth, when I have time to do so. Take a visit to the museums – visit the Apollo 11 Command Module, Space Shuttle _Enterprise,_ or the Rocketdyne F-1 _._ That sort of stuff.”

 

“That sounds doable, Commander. Anything else?”

 

“If there isn't a space law or something like that against it, I'd like to retrieve the _Voyager 2_ probe, stick it in a museum. And last, but not least, a 1969 Dodge Charger Daytona. Failing that, a 1972 Pontiac Trans Am. Or a 1970 Hurst/Olds 442. Or a 1965 Ford Mustang Fastback. Really, any one of those will do just fine.”

 

“Um.”

 

“Let me sweeten the deal, then.” She typed in another set of commands – the holo-vids faded away, replaced with a replication of the Milky Way galaxy, sparsely covered with dots, both far and near Sol. “Here's the locations of every earth-like planet that I know of, and prime candidates for terraforming. Also displayed are locations of systems with resource-rich asteroid belts and gas giants with equally-wealthy rings. But wait, there's more! I'll also include blueprints for mining lasers that are practical to use, collector limpets, and shipboard refineries that can refine ore on the spot. All for the low, low price of a muscle car or two. And then, you'll have ships with energy shielding, capable of averaging a thousand light-years. Per hour. Oh, and did I mention being able to draw fuel directly from main-sequence stars? That's important, too.”

 

The reactions she received ranged from shocked to merely incredulous.

 

“Any more questions you'd like to ask?”

 

“Admiral, is there a chance we could take this ship to one of our research facilities?” Ackerson addressed Stanforth. “I'm sure we could learn more than a thing or two.”

 

“Well, I'd have to ask Commander Graves for permission. She bought the ship with her own money.” Stanforth turned to face Evangeline.

 

“No.”

 

“She says no.” The admiral turned back to Ackerson.

 

Whitcomb let out a snort.

 

Hood seemed somewhat amused, too.

 

Ackerson, less so.

 

* * *

 

“Commander, I have a question.” Stanforth spoke up a minute after they departed, an agreement hammered out.

 

“Go ahead, sir.” Evangeline nodded.

 

“I noticed you didn't shake Colonel Ackerson's hand before we left. Any reason for that?”

 

“Too much slime, sir.”

 

To her right, Whitcomb let out a throaty chuckle.

 

“It's not wise to make enemies this early in your career, Commander.” Stanforth shook his head.

 

“Eh, probably not.” She shrugged. “But I'm not so naïve to think I wasn't going to make enemies, anyways. Might as well make them while I know who they are, sir.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=de78Odrw6KE


	10. The calm before the storm

15th of July

Reach

UNSC Hyperion

 

* * *

 

“That's it. I quit.” Evangeline grumbled, tossing her cards on the table, giving a distressed look at her nearly non-existent pile of chips.

 

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, to play poker with Blue Team.

 

Except they had the most unreadable poker faces in existence. It was impossible to tell whether or not any of the Spartans were bluffing. To top it all off, they played like their lives depended on it.

 

“So, what have we learned, Commander?” Kelly seemed more than a little smug as she leaned back in her chair. “Never play games of fortune with a Spartan.”

 

“You could've at least gone easy on me.”

 

“That's what we were doing.”

 

Evangeline rolled her eyes as she stood up – in the background, a few of the spectating Marines swapped credit chips, now that she was out of the game. Two stood up, making their way over to the table, eager to try their luck.

 

Suffice to say, their luck abandoned them the moment the cards were dealt.

 

* * *

 

“Commander.”

 

“Cortana.” Evangeline returned the greeting as she hopped into her chair. “How's the new batch coming along?”

 

“See for yourself.” Cortana swept her hand across the windows – a number of glowing screens winked into existence, displaying progress reports from the various _Anchor_ stations around Reach. To cope with the sudden influx of ships, parts and materials, two slipspace-capable repair-and-refit stations had been relocated to Reach, along with the _Punic-_ class supercarrier, _UNSC Bastogne._ Only a handful of the massive, powerful warships remained in service, the rest having been lost to costly engagements with Covenant fleets.

 

All the same, Evangeline declared she'd fallen in love with it the very moment she laid her eyes upon it. The Punic-class was, bar none, the biggest and most massive type of warship UNSC had ever conceived. And with its ventral sub-vessel hangar bays, _Bastogne_ could contribute to the refit effort, freeing up the _Anchor_ stations for more vital ships like cruisers and carriers, what few of those remained.

 

All in all, almost thirty ships were undergoing refit. Admiral Stanforth even had grudgingly permitted for his flagship, _Leviathan,_ to be refitted.

 

“Cortana?”

 

“Yes, Commander?”

 

“I don't think Colonel Ackerson likes me very much.”

 

“Well, being that the good colonel has lost a lot of funding for his special weapons projects – funding which has been redirected towards you, at that – that was to be expected.”

 

“No, seriously. The look he had on his face when I mentioned you and Doctor Halsey, you'd think he was chewing rusty nails.”

 

“Their rivalry has been going on for a long time, Commander. Doctor Halsey was at the helm of the Spartan-II program. And you're already familiar with their capabilities.”

 

“Mm.” Evangeline nodded absently, sorting through the list of troubleshooting issues mailed to her. “Seems that the good colonel doesn't really appreciate being outdone by a civilian contractor. I get the feeling that this isn't uncommon when it comes to ONI, though.”

 

“No argument there, Commander.” Cortana nodded in return, sitting on top of the dashboard, mathematical equations orbiting the AI.

 

“Here, Cortana.” Evangeline opened one of the files and skimmed over it. _“New York's_ engines have a bit of a problem. One of the primary field harmonizers keeps knocking itself out of alignment whenever they try to test-fire the thrusters. Probably just a software issue.”

 

“Let me see.” The AI hummed as she flicked her fingers, intensely scrutinising the data she received. “Done. It's fixed.” She passed the data back to the woman a moment later.

 

Evangeline nodded silently, opening the file. A brief inspection later, she modified some of the coding before returning it to Cortana. “Here. Run the simulation again, please.”

 

The AI did as asked, the lines of code running across her body brightening in turn. Mere seconds later, she was finished, turning to look at Evangeline curiously.

 

“How did you do that? I was certain that I'd wrung out the every bit of performance I could find.”

 

“That's the thing, Cortana – always hold back a little. Just in case.” Evangeline smirked.

 

“That's smart. I like you, Commander.” Cortana tittered amusedly.

 

“I like you too, Cortana.” Evangeline leaned back in her seat.

 

“That's so sweet of you! Oh, should we get matching friendship bracelets?”

 

“And just like that, the moment is dead.” Evangeline rolled her eyes, but couldn't stop a small smile. “You killed it, Cortana. You killed it dead.”

 

“Oh nooooo...” The AI mock-despaired.

 

* * *

 

18th of July

 

* * *

 

 

“Master Chief! Lower your weapon! That is an order!” Evangeline barked, storming towards the holding-an-Engineer-at-gunpoint Spartan. The alien in question was obviously quite distressed, cowering under the supersoldier's intimidating gaze. A couple of Marines were curiously observing the spectacle from a distance.

 

John remained as he were for several seconds before slowly lowering the M6D Magnum in his hand.

 

“Both of you. Explain yourselves. Now.”

 

_/Upgrades,/_ the Engineer whistled indignantly.

 

“It tried gain access to our armour, Commander.”

 

“Well, this guy over here says he wanted to upgrade it.” Evangeline pointed to the Engineer. “You've seen what they can do for your ships. No doubt the armour would benefit from their work.”

 

“That may be true, Commander,” The Spartan responded after a moment's contemplation. “But it doesn't change the fact that our armour is one of the most advanced pieces of equipment that UNSC has made. Classified technology was used to make it a possibility, and it would be a direct breach of protocol to allow an alien access to it, no matter the intentions.”

 

“Alright, I get where you're coming from.” Evangeline nodded. “So, who designed it?”

 

“Doctor Halsey, ma'am.”

 

“Then she'll know everything there is to know about the armour. We can call her up here, and have her boss the Engineers around. If they try anything that seems fishy... well, you get the idea.”

 

“That would be acceptable, Commander.” The Spartan nodded, albeit with some reluctance.

 

“I'm glad to hear it, Chief. Now...” She turned to face the Engineer. “Unless you get express permission from either me, Doctor Halsey, or Chief over here, you and your buddies aren't allowed to touch the Spartans' armour. Got it?”

 

The alien nodded.

 

“Good. Now go on, skedaddle.”

 

“Apologies for causing trouble, Commander.” John spoke once the creature was out of earshot. “We don't exactly enjoy going for long periods of time without a mission. More so when on a ship.”

 

“Feels like you're just cargo, huh? I hear ya, but until we get a call from above, the only thing we can do is prepare and be ready to move when it's time to do so. But I promise that when the time comes, we'll come down on the Covenant's head like a goddamn jackhammer.”

 

“Understood, Commander.” The Spartan nodded.

 

“If you feel like it, go up to the bridge. Ask Cortana to set you up with a flight sim. Might be a good way to kill time.”

 

“Noted.”

 

* * *

 

20th of July

 

* * *

 

“Alright – I'll bite.” Stacker spoke up in-between bites of his burger. “What's the biggest distance you could cover in an hour?”

 

“Don't quote me on this, but I have heard of hardcore explorers capable of averaging up to 5,000 light-years per hour.” Evangeline responded. “In stripped-down, souped-up Diamondbacks, Asps, or Anacondas, with the help of neutron highways.”

 

“For real?”

 

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” Evangeline nodded. “Of course, all those neutron stars wear out the FSD something fierce. And if it breaks down while in proximity of one, you're definitely fucked.”

 

“Still, imagine what the Navy could do if they had that kind of mobility.”

 

“Probably could go to the other side of the galaxy in less than a week,” Johnson added his two credits to the conversation. “Find the Covie homeworlds and drop a couple of Shivas on them.”

 

“Maybe someday we'll reach that point, and have ample opportunity to quote _Apocalypse Now_ for days.” Evangeline nodded again. “Until then, we'll just have to make do with stopping them from burning UNSC's colonies.”

 

“Amen to that.”

 

“I did hear from Admiral Stanforth, though – top men are hard at work decrypting and translating the data we pulled from that outpost we destroyed. Might be we'll get more targets to strike at – more depots to blow up, rallying points to mine, and so on and so forth.”

 

“That's good to hear. Who's he got on the task?”

 

“Top. Men.”

 

All she received was blank stares.

 

“Never mind.”

 

* * *

 

21st of July

 

* * *

 

It would be too generous to call it a helmet, John reasoned, turning the contraption over in his hands – there wasn't much more to it than a combination of plastic bits, metal bits, sensor pads and a power cable plugged into the chair.

 

In the background, Cortana was explaining the finer points of telepresence used by pilots to control ship-launched fighters as he fitted the device over his head. A number of small gears and motors whirred, providing a snug fit, and a couple of small metal pins pressed against the back of his neck.

 

As Cortana's voice drifted in and out of focus, he soon realised it wasn't because he found her lecture boring – and the AI could very well drone on for hours. It was actually impossible to concentrate on her words, drowned out by the thrum of engines that weren't quite there. His eyesight was similarly affected, trying to focus on holographic readouts that pulsed with a lazy glow.

 

He blinked twice.

 

Wherever he looked, there was a mish-mash of what was and what wasn't.

 

He blinked again.

 

The interior of _Hyperion's_ bridge faded away completely, replaced by the cramped cockpit of a small, one-man ship. Upon further inspection, his ship appeared to be just above the rings of Saturn, millions upon millions of rocks sluggishly tumbling through the void.

 

John raised his hands, closely examining the Remlok suit he was wearing – it reminded him somewhat of the suits Blue Team had worn on their first mission as Spartans - Operation: TALON. The suit's material shifted over his skin as he flexed his fingers. Grudgingly, he had to admit – if he didn't know any better, he'd think he was actually wearing the suit.

 

_It looks like you're trying to learn to fly a ship,_ a line of text popped up on one of the screens, _would you like help?_

 

A second ship popped into existence twenty metres ahead of him, Cortana's voice readily sounding through his ship's cockpit.

 

“ _Sorry, but Clippy's not available right now. You're stuck with me for the time being.”_ The AI chuckled gregariously, rolling her ship from side to side. _“Shall we begin?”_

 

* * *

 

24th of July

 

* * *

 

“Oh, Commander! Good to see you.” Doctor Halsey greeted Evangeline as the woman approached her. The four suits of MJOLNIR hung in their storage cradles, in various states of disassembly as Engineers floated about with pieces of the armour clutched in their tentacles.

 

“Likewise, Doctor. Everything going on alright in here? Any problems with the Engineers or stuff like that?”

 

“Oh, not at all. They've been quite obedient and dutiful. I don't think I've ever seen them taking a break. Some of the solutions they've come up with are deceptively simple, and it's honestly making me feel like I'm a fresh-faced graduate.”

 

“Well, that's good to hear, Doctor. Any other issues I'd need to hear of?”

 

“Oh, there is one thing. Do you have any working samples of Covenant shield technology? I wouldn't mind seeing about making it work for the MJOLNIR.”

 

“Captain Dare made off with most of the loot some time ago, but I think I have some odd bits lying around here. Cortana?”

 

“ _Mmmyes?”_ The AI's synthesized voice echoed through the cargo bay.

 

“Be a dear and open the material storage, please.”

 

“ _Can do.”_ There was a series of clicks and whirs from one of the walls as a pair of hatches swung open.

 

“Feel free to take what you need, Doctor. As it stands, I don't have much use for most of things in there. With a bit of luck, you might be able to put them to good use.”

 

* * *

 

25th of July

 

* * *

 

John gunned the throttle, sending his Gunship hurtling forwards – to his right, Fred moved to cover him, his Python smoothly falling in formation. On the radar, he could see the fuzzy grey signature of Linda's Diamondback, rigged and outfitted for silent running, ready to swoop down unto unsuspecting targets. Kelly was weaving around the asteroids, a group of GU-97s chasing after her Vulture. Occasionally, she would flip the agile fighter about, frag cannons making short work of whoever dared to get within range.

 

Two of the Imperial fighters found themselves eviscerated by pinpoint railgun fire as Linda crept up to the hostiles from behind – for a brief moment, her murky signal became legible before dissolving back into a static mess as she activated one of her disposable heat sinks. The fighters were unable to get a lock on her, and the Spartan soon was out of their weapons range.

 

Kelly took the opportunity to plow through one of the fighters, dumping all available power into shields as she did so, perforating another GU-97 at near point-blank range before boosting past the group.

 

By now, John and Fred were in range – they both opened fire, laser beams reaching out and connecting with the Imperial fighters, stripping away their shields. Kelly didn't waste time capitalizing on this and wheeled about, scrapping a fighter with every frag cannon salvo she let loose.

 

“Kelly, Linda - move ahead. Delay the convoy.”

 

Immediately, the Diamondback and Vulture peeled off, hurtling towards the two Cutters and Type-9s trying to escape. Meanwhile, John and Fred mopped up the remains of the Imperial air group, the two heavily-armed ships tearing through the remote-controlled fighters like so much wet cardboard. It didn't take long before they went back to chasing the convoy down.

 

Time slowed to a crawl as John lined up the killshot – the Type-9 wobbled, its shield blowing out from point-blank frag blasts, courtesy of Kelly.

 

He squeezed the trigger.

 

A boiling-hot lump of plasma zoomed towards the freighter.

 

And suddenly, he was blinking away the after-images as the simulation was abruptly terminated.

 

“ _All hands, this is the Commander speaking. I've been informed that slipspace probes have found a Covenant fleet, headed straight for the colony of New Venture. We'll be moving out once Admiral Whitcomb has assembled the fleet, so get yourselves ready.”_

 

John let out a small, unseen smile as the Spartans of Blue Team sprung into action.

 

 


	11. Far from shores, a Pacific war

 

25th of July

New Venture

 

* * *

 

The colony world of New Venture wasn't much to look at, from a passing glance. The planet orbited its star just on the outer edge of the habitable zone – as a result, much of its was covered in permafrost, its oceans thawing only during the brief summers of the world. Frequent snowstorms ensured the planet's colonization had been a lengthy affair.

 

Indeed, New Venture may have been overlooked entirely, were it not for its true wealth – tungsten, a hardy, dense metal that had a long history of being used for production of armour-piercing munitions. New Venture's industry manufactured everything from small arms AP munitions all the way to the massive slugs used by Super MACs. Life on the planet was harsh, but BXR paid well, and the veins of tungsten ran deep.

 

Losing the world would put UNSC's munitions stockpiles at peril. If they could not drive the Covenant off, they would have to ship off as much of New Venture's produce as they could.

 

Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that.

 

* * *

 

“Sub-zero temperatures, gale-force winds, and treacherous terrain. What a lovely place.” Johnson grumbled as their team clustered around a steaming field kitchen set up in the cover of a tent. The two militiamen in charge of the field kitchen were busy filling a set of vacuum flasks for them.

 

“It's always wise to pick your battlefields, not the other way around. But hey, at least the Covenant won't have it any easier, either.” Evangeline nodded in agreement as she affixed one of the sturdy flasks to her waist. “Somehow, I don't think that those little dudes they have will fare all too good in a snowstorm.”

 

Johnson chortled at the mental image of a Grunt trying to clear a snow drift.

 

“And that's if the local wildlife don't develop a taste for them.”

 

“Well, let's hope they stick to harassing Covies and not us, Commander.” Johnson snatched up a vacuum flask for himself. The rest of _Hyperion's_ marines did the same, all of them clad in winter gear. Even the Spartans were wearing adaptive camo-cloaks, to help them blend in with the terrain.

 

Their mission was to fortify and defend the main mining complex, in case the Covenant attempted to make planetfall. Which they likely would. The smaller complexes were being safeguarded by elements from the 241st Marine Division, along with New Venture's own Colonial Militia.

 

“Hear, hear.” She nodded again, tightening her own cloak around her shoulders, taking a brief look at the planet's sole space elevator. She'd never seen one before in her life, though she was familiar with the concept. Of course, with FSDs enabling easy planetary landings, neither the Empire or Federation had seen any point to funding the construction of space elevators.

 

“Since we'll be coordinating the defence of New Venture's most expansive mining complex, General Reyes has assigned 10th Company to aid us for the duration of this mission. We are to dig in, fortify the entrance shaft to the best of our abilities, and prevent the Covenant forces from taking the complex. Any questions?”

 

Everyone shook their heads.

 

“Good to hear. Move out.”

 

* * *

 

A crowd of roughly 200 Marines had gathered underneath _Hyperion,_ taking refuge from the snowstorm, stomping their feet and rubbing their arms. One of them, upon seeing their team approach, turned to meet them halfway.

 

“Captain Williams, reporting.” The Marine officer snapped off a salute, which Evangeline crisply returned. “I assume you're our transport?”

 

“That's right, Captain. Might get a bit crowded, but _Hyperion_ will get us there.”

 

Williams turned to briefly regard the corvette. “I've never seen a ship like that.”

 

“That's because she's a prototype. First of her kind.” Evangeline smoothly replied. “Anyways, enough about us. What are you bringing to the table?”

 

“One-hundred-and-eighty Marines, fully equipped and ready for action. Munitions-wise, we have sniper rifles, missile launchers, machine guns, anti-tank mines, anti-personnel mines - pretty much everything we could need to mount an effective defence in close quarters.”

 

“Good to hear, Captain.” Evangeline nodded. “Cortana, open all boarding hatches, lower the cargo platform. Let's get these Marines onboard.”

 

* * *

 

Four hours later

Battlegroup Ironclad

 

* * *

 

 

Whitcomb silently regarded the glowing screen before him – the fleet was as ready as it could be.

 

Ten _Stalwart_ -class frigates.

Twelve _Paris-_ class frigates.

Five _Charon-_ class frigates.

Eleven _Halberd-_ class destroyers.

Two _Halcyon-_ class cruisers.

One _Epoch-_ class carrier.

And two _Valiant-_ class cruisers, one of those being _Ironclad,_ his flagship.

 

A force to be reckoned with, for sure. And refitted at no small cost to UNSC's treasury. Still, unease gnawed at his stomach – despite seeing the experimental Federation technology perform with no readily apparent issues, it still remained to be seen how it'd fare against Covenant's advanced weaponry. UNSC warships could not endure battles of attrition, yet those were the kinds of battles the Covenant kept dragging them into. The outcome of this engagement would, quite literally, make or break Task Force Daedalus.

 

“Slipspace ruptures detected at fifty thousand kilometres. Bearing 079, elevation 031.” _Ironclad's_ AI, Lucifer suddenly announced, its angelic avatar the very image of calm professionalism. “Running comparisons to our databases now... nineteen signatures are compliant to those of _CCS-_ class battlecruisers. Last two are _CAS-_ class assault carriers.”

 

“So it begins...” Whitcomb whispered to himself before raising his voice. “Signal all groups – action stations. Set Condition One throughout the fleet. All ships are to have a firing solution for their MACs and Archer missiles ready once the Covenant are within effective firing range. Launch the alert fighters, establish a perimeter. And notify our ground forces.”

 

“Aye, sir.”

 

At once, the super-heavy cruiser's bridge was overcome with near-chaotic action as the various crewmen hurried to carry out the Admiral's orders. One sixth of a light-second away, the Covenant fleet drew ever closer, lazily moving into formation. Whitcomb straightened his back, trying not to grind his teeth. The engines of _Ironclad_ rumbled as the cruiser aligned itself, the rest of the battlegroup following suit.

 

“Group One, Group Two, move to your positions. Group Three, take up formation around Group Four.”

 

With practised ease, the cluster of frigates and destroyers split into two groups, both manoeuvring to cover the cruisers' flanks. The six destroyers of Group Three stuck close to the cruisers, also assuming escort role. _Cassiopeia, Ironclad, Valor_ and _Ten Years Kashmir,_ in turn, formed up around the carrier _The Ninth of November._ The five capital ships were Group Four, the backbone of the fleet.

 

“The order is 'advance'. The order is given.”

 

As one, Battlegroup Ironclad surged forward, their engines burning brightly.

 

“Targeting solutions established, sir. All ships are ready to fire on your command.” Lucifer announced again.

 

“Prepare to launch Archers – one hundred missiles from each ship. Time the MACs to hit two seconds before the missiles. ”

 

“Aye, sir. Marking targets of priority. Running calculations now.” A moment passed before AI spoke again. “I am detecting a surge of energy from the lead assault carrier. They are charging weapons.”

 

“Group One, Group Two. It's your time to move. Execute your manoeuvre now.”

 

Instantly, the two small battlegroups pulled away – Group One turned right, and Group Two turned left. The small, fast warships didn't take long to escape the cruisers' mass lock, and jumped away, with the destroyers going first, so as not to slow the frigates down.

 

The Covenant seemed more than a little confused by this action, some of their battlecruisers slowing down as they reassessed the situation.

 

“Group Three. Assume line formation in front of Group Four. Be ready to intercept one torpedo each. Divert all non-essential power to shields three seconds before impact.”

 

“Six of their battlecruisers are now charging their weapons.” Lucifer added matter-of-factly. “Detecting low wakes, eight thousand metres to the right of the Covenant fleet. Detecting low wakes, ten thousand metres to the left of the Covenant fleet. Groups One and Two are in position and await your orders.”

 

“The order is 'open fire'.” Whitcomb announced with no small amount of glee. “The order is given.”

 

Though he could not see it, the effects of being caught in a crossfire of two MAC volleys were immediate on the sensors – at point-blank range, the Covenant warships could not hope to dodge the shots. Three cruisers were destroyed almost immediately. Another two survived the initial slugs of tungsten, but were almost immediately bombarded by a wall of Archer missiles launched by Group Two. Their shields, barely maintaining coherence, didn't last long before blowing out, letting the frigate _Black Tide_ deliver a _coup de grace,_ its shot ripping right through the first cruiser's neck section, separating its bulbous bow from the rest of the ship. The slug's momentum pushed the bow into the side of the other cruiser, caving in its hull. It exploded a moment later.

 

The rest of the Covenant fleet was thrown into chaos as they wheeled about, trying to get a bead on their ambushers. But the space around them was filled with a rapidly-expanding cloud of debris and explosions of Archer missiles. It was near-impossible to get a lock on the retreating UNSC vessels. With a series of flashes, the two battlegroups came about and boosted hard, going to supercruise after leaving the mass lock zone of the Covenant ships.

 

“Five _CCS-_ class battlecruisers destroyed. Three more are damaged and in the process of regenerating their shields. Group One reports no casualties or damage to their ships. Destroyer _Thunderstruck_ of Group Two reports having taken one blind-fired plasma torpedo – shields at 26%, mostly superficial hull damage due to heat bleed. Frigates _Tannenberg, Nemesis, Condition Red_ report hits from Covenant pulse lasers. No damage to hulls. Shields regenerating. ” Lucifer reported, seemingly calm, but Whitcomb could hear an edge of excitement to the AI's voice.

 

Five battle-ready battlecruisers. Gone in a little under a minute, with no losses of their own. That was a damned good news. The bad news was that the Covenant finally seemed to be taking them seriously – their engines glowed brightly as their fleet accelerated towards the UNSC forces. They would try to get within a range at which the MACs would become useless.

 

“Lucifer, reassign some of the frigates to Group Three. Order them to assist Groups One and Two. I'll take Group Four and keep the Covenant busy. We can absorb some of the damage while the rest of our ships charge their MACs.”

 

“Aye, sir. Issuing orders now.” Ahead of them, Group Three quickly pulled up and away, going to supercruise moments later.

 

“Get us a firing solution on the damaged battlecruisers – _Valor_ and _Kashmir_ are to fire in tandem at the first one. _Cassiopeia_ has the second one. The last one is ours.”

 

“Firing solutions calculated. All ships are aligned. MAC capacitors at 100% charge. We are ready to fire.”

 

“Fire MAC One. Fire MAC Two.”

 

_Ironclad_ shuddered, the bridge lights dimming as a streak of white light left the cruiser's bow, followed a second one half a second later.

 

“The Covenant have opened fire. I count twenty-nine plasma torpedoes, thirty-two thousand kilometres away and closing in. Their fleet seems to be spreading itself out. The assault carriers are launching fighters.”

 

“Relay the information to our frigates and destroyers. They are free to engage the enemy as they see fit. Have them pick off targets of opportunity.”

 

“Aye, sir.” Lucifer nodded.

 

“Tell _November_ to muster their squadrons for interception.”

 

“ _The Ninth of November_ acknowledges.” Sure enough, the heavy carrier's Longsword complement sprung into action, almost two hundred heavy fighters hurtling through the void, joined by the wings from their cruisers. “Detecting low wakes behind and above the Covenant formation. Groups One, Two, and Three are in position. They are opening fire.”

 

Four battlecruisers were annihilated this time, the UNSC warships leaving a trail of missiles behind them as they retreated to supercruise once more. Moments later, the MAC slugs fired by Group Four impacted their targets, claiming the three damaged battlecruisers. Like a double tap, but with massive coilguns.

 

“I count seventeen plasma torpedoes remain on collision course with us. Nineteen-and-a-half thousand kilometres away. At present velocity of the torpedoes and Group Four, I estimate that they will hit us in under a minute.”

 

“Be ready to redirect all non-essential power to shields. We won't have time to finish charging our MACs.”

 

“Aye, sir.” Lucifer coolly replied, as tense silence set in, the white-hot globs of plasma drawing inexorably closer.

 

Another Covenant battlecruiser was destroyed by Group Two – the Covenant were adapting by now, pre-emptively launching a salvo of torpedoes against the frigates and destroyers, giving the UNSC ships less time to line up their shots. Several ships were hit – the destroyer _Dawnstar_ bugged out with less than six percent shields and a number of breached compartments, while the frigate _Inmate 4859_ took two torpedoes to its shields, the second of which was not fully absorbed, gouging a molten scar across its starboard plating. Another destroyer, _Resist and Bite,_ heroically intercepted a third torpedo, two of its Archer pods cooking off in a pair of spectacular explosions despite its shields absorbing the majority of the damage. Not wasting any time, the two ships made a quick escape, leaving a trail of smoke and molten debris in their wake.

 

Others were less fortunate – frigates _Inazuma_ and _Anvil_ both took critical damage to propulsion and helplessly drifted askance, trailing plasma exhaust from their shattered conduits. _Double Negative_ took a direct hit to its port missile pods – the ensuing explosions nearly broke the frigate's spine, and it limped to the safety of supercruise by the smallest of margins. _Wolfmother,_ having somehow survived three hits without its shields, was making a beeline for the nearest battlecruiser, lasers firing non-stop. The grievously-damaged frigate's intent was clear to everyone watching – mere moments later, _Wolfmother_ slammed into the ship's side, smashing through its shields, burying its prow into the armour. The explosion that followed didn't leave much behind.

 

“Lucifer, recall Group Three. Their orders are to keep _November_ safe. Tell Group Four to charge FSDs, and go to supercruise just before the torpedoes are to reach us.”

 

“Aye, sir. Group Four acknowledges. Charging FSDs.” As per his orders, the four cruisers went to supercruise mere seconds before the baleful torpedoes reached them.

 

“Drop us right on top of them. Tell Group One and Two to come out swinging around the bastards. We're about to give the Covenant a beating the likes of which has never been seen before.”

 

“I couldn't have put it any better myself, sir.” Lucifer intoned dryly. “Dropping in thirteen seconds.”

 

The precision with which Group Four dropped down to sublight speeds was biblical – their cruisers arrived a little over five kilometres away from one of the assault carriers. Their engines burning brightly, the cruisers moved to intercept the Covenant warship, opening fire as they did so. The MAC shots, though underpowered, still served to drain their target's shield.

 

In a move many would later describe as the 'ballsiest move since Psi Serpentis', _Valor_ and _Kashmir_ swooped in, hammering the closest assault carrier with point-blank broadsides; lasers, railguns, and missiles fired non-stop as the rest of the battlegroup arrived, encircling the Covenant fleet. Their fighter screen was fully engaged with the Covenant Seraphs, streaks of ASGM-10 missiles and cannon fire criss-crossing the space with the bright flashes of plasma cannon fire. Ever now and then, bright lances of laser beams would leap from the UNSC ships, swatting a couple of Seraphs out of space.

 

There was someone cursing their mouth off on _Ironclad's_ bridge, and Whitcomb became vaguely aware that it was him. He wasn't the only one – in fact, the entire fleet-wide channel was awash with jubilant fury as his fleet tore into the Covenant. Not only did they have the genocidal bastards outnumbered and surrounded, but for the first time in the war, they had the Covenant well and truly outgunned as well.

 

The remaining five battlecruisers and both assault carriers did not last too long as Whitcomb pressed their advantage, shields buckling and hulls shattering under their withering firepower. One by one, the Covenant warships were torn asunder, their crews perishing in violent explosions. One of the assault carriers tried to disengage and flee, but took a trio of MAC shells to its engines – leaking plasma, it could only pathetically sputter as it listed, repeated volleys of missiles and railguns pummelling its hull. Eventually, something vital was hit and its reactor blew, annihilating the vessel in a brilliant explosion.

 

“All enemy ships destroyed, sir. Our fighter wings are mopping up the last of their Seraphs. We have won the battle.”

 

Whitcomb let out a breath as clarity of mind returned to him – it had been cathartic, damn near euphoric to witness the Covenant experience the reaming of a lifetime. They had won – but it was a victory that had come at a cost.

 

Seven frigates and three destroyers had been destroyed. Five frigates and four destroyers would require repairs of various degree. _Ten Years Kashmir_ had taken six torpedoes, nobly enduring the damage that had melted dozens of square meters of her dorsal plating.

 

But they had won.

 

“Signal all ships – set Condition Two throughout the fleet. Deploy our search and rescue teams. Signal FLEETCOM. Tell them the day is ours.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inb4 Eric Nylund starts crying and he doesn't understand why


	12. Let's do the math

26th of July

New Venture Colonial Headquarters

 

* * *

 

“ _And so, the greatest gamble UNSC's ever made comes to a close. I hope that the rest of our engagements are as successful.”_ Stanforth let out a wearied sigh.

 

“I hear that, Admiral. But I doubt the Covenant will take this lying down.”

 

“ _Agreed.”_ Stanforth nodded. _“I've dispatched the repair-and-refit platform_ UNSC Warden _to salvage what's useable from our destroyed ships. They're also bringing what spare parts we have to get Whitcomb's fleet operational, and what ships we have finished refitting at Reach.”_

 

“Good to know. They lost more than a few ships up there against the Covenant.”

 

“ _And they destroyed the entire Covenant fleet while at it. Without the refit, we'd be lucky if we had five barely-operational wrecks left. This victory couldn't have been possible without your cooperation, Commander.”_

 

“It wouldn't have happened without your support, either, Admiral. Nor the men and women on those ships. This could've gone tits up very quickly, pardon my French, but they did their duty all the same.”

 

“ _That they did.”_ Stanforth agreed. _“We're going over the combat recordings now – should have a broadcast ready to go soon.”_

 

“Wait, what? What do you mean, sir?” She inquired curiously.

 

“ _You'll see soon enough, Commander.”_ Stanforth let slip a small smile before he terminated the connection.

 

“Hm.” Evangeline shrugged before turning to Governor Riley. “Thanks for lending me use of your comms, Governor.”

 

“Don't mention it, Commander. It's the least I could do.” The governor nodded. “If there's anything I can help it, you have but to ask.”

 

Evangeline nodded in return and left, her gaze lazily drifting to the raging snowstorm outside, its violent gusts muted behind thick panes of insulated glass – _Hyperion,_ largely sheltered from the elements, had water dribbling down its hull as excess heat was vented from the idling powerplant. More than one of the colonists passing it – and her – glanced at them warily.

 

It made sense, in a way – despite the UNSC logos, _Hyperion_ was too different. Too clean, too finely-machined to pass as one of their fleet's workhorses. Her Remlok suit, too, was nothing like the flight suits used by Navy pilots.

 

Oh, well. At least UNSC weren't ones to look a gift horse in the mouth. Closely, that is.

 

* * *

 

Reach

UNSC Hyperion

 

* * *

 

 

Evangeline took her eyes off her datapad to look at the two Spartans sparring in the middle of _Hyperion's_ cargo hold where Fred and Kelly were engaged in a game of endless feints and counterfeints. Nary a sound was made as the two supersoldiers circled each other, looking for the slightest sign of weakness to exploit. Except they never telegraphed their attacks – Evangeline soon found it near-impossible to predict who'd throw the first punch, and when they did, it was over in a blink. Both Spartans moved with a deliberate, sure-footed grace that made her feel like a bull in a china shop in comparison.

 

They sparred for several more minutes before parting by some unheard agreement – Kelly began performing stretches, while Fred sat down near the Spartans' MJOLNIR armour and began to juggle a knife, effortlessly flipping it between his fingers. Kelly didn't seem to care much for it, pausing to shoot the briefest of glances at the other Spartan. Fred didn't say anything, but sheathed the knife nonetheless. Just as she was about to resume her cool-down exercise, Fred began to bounce his right leg, tapping his boot against the floor.

 

Kelly didn't like that, either.

 

* * *

 

 

“What, think you can sneak up on me? In _my_ ship?” Linda paused, mug of tea in her hand, to look at Evangeline, the woman's grin as shit-eating as they got.

 

“That's not what I was doing, Commander.” The Spartan sniper replied evenly. It was the truth, after all.

 

“Suuuuuure...” The woman maintained the expression for a moment longer before patting the couch she occupied. “Plant your ass here for a sec. Want to show you something I'm working on.”

 

Linda sat down as Evangeline fiddled with her datapad – the holo-emitters winked into life, displaying the knife-fight engagement that had spelled the end of the Covenant fleet attacking New Venture, and long strings of equations and calculations surrounding it.

 

“I've gotten a whole slew of data to comb through from the battle – the shields work, but a lot of the heat from Covenant plasma weapons still gets through the shield, capable of heating a ship's armour plating to a point where it's no longer structurally sound. Ergo, decompressions and munitions cooking off. The shields on your ships, as they are now, offer good damage resistance against kinetic damage, but are easily worn away by directed energy weapons. I'm trying to reverse that, see?”

 

Linda nodded slightly as she let her eyes drift over the data. Along with every other Spartan, she'd received some of the sophisticated, high-level education during their training - history, military tactics, science, and more, thus she was able to make sense of some of the information arrayed before her.

 

“I see.”

 

“There's also the matter of figuring out just how wide the mass-lock fields the Covenant ships make, because otherwise, it'll end up with a lot of good folk not being able to escape to supercruise once their shields are down. Can't have that. At the very least, it still doesn't affect charge times for hyperjumps, so there's that.”

 

Linda nodded again, watching the muted footage, feeling a slight surge of satisfaction as she saw a Covenant assault carrier getting gutted by a tandem MAC blast from _Ironclad._ This was the game changer that UNSC desperately needed – unbidden, the memory of Jericho VII sprung to her mind.

 

Three days of savage fighting had ground the Covenant's surface offensive to a standstill, despite the heavy casualties the UNSC Marines and Army had taken. She'd been part of Blue Team, raising hell against a thousand Grunts so that Red Team could sneak in a HAVOK nuke meant to destroy the next Covenant ship that landed to disembark its troop complement. The mission had gone off without a hitch; they'd slaughtered the Covenant cannon fodder wholesale.

 

And then word had come from orbit that the situation had turned sour for their ships. That they had to retreat. No matter how significant a ground engagement they won, it was always rendered moot when the Covenant burned their worlds from space.

 

No more.

 

“...had a chat with Admiral Stanforth. Said he's seeing about setting us up with some time planetside. War games and such, to maintain our combat readiness. What do you think?”

 

“I think that's a good idea, Commander. Is there anything else?”

 

“Well, I was going to watch a movie, soon as I send these simulations over to Cortana. You're welcome to join.” Evangeline offered, leaning back on the couch.

 

“Thank you for the offer, Commander. But I'll have to decline.” Linda stood up.

 

“Eh, no worries.” Evangeline shrugged. “Means more snacks for me.”

 

“So long as you do not forget our agreement, Commander.”

 

“Yes, Mother, I'll go to bed on time.” Evangeline joked, rolling her eyes.

 

“If that's how you see me, I'll also have to tell you to stop slouching.” The Spartan announced with utter seriousness, prompting the other woman to snicker.

 

“Alright, are you staying to watch the movie or not?” Evangeline looked at her expectantly, an amused smile on her face.

 

Spartans weren't exactly known for being sociable – their armour and demeanour often served to dehumanize them even further in the eyes of others. Marines tended to steer clear of them while out of combat. ODSTs were borderline hostile, their role of UNSC's most elite usurped by the Spartan commandos. Even _Hyperion's_ crew mainly preferred to keep the extent of their interactions with Blue Team to curt greetings.

 

Except Evangeline Graves, that is. Their commander, initially surprised to have UNSC's most experienced soldiers under her command, had quickly overcome her apprehension. Few non-Spartan personnel treated them as equals, and Commander Graves was one of them. Truth be told, it was a welcome change - to not be gawked at, to not have everyone jump to attention when seeing a Spartan enter the room.

 

“Very well.” Her mind made up, Linda sat back down.

 

“Right on.” Evangeline smiled even wider before standing up and making her way over to the food printer. “Go ahead and browse for something to watch while I get us something grossly unhealthy to eat.”

 

The Spartan nodded and turned her attention to the holographic interface. It didn't take long to find what she was looking for, though she was briefly taken aback from the sheer variety of files offered to her, the overwhelming majority of them being from the 20th and 21st centuries.

 

“No offence, Commander, but these seem to be ancient.”

 

“Yeah, they don't make movies like they used to. Everything's a CGI shit-fest in the 34th century.” Evangeline replied, half-turned to face her. “That's not to say they don't make good movies – there's The Wolf of Lave Station, or Saving Commander Ryan. That sort of stuff. But you can't beat good old-fashioned practical effects.”

 

“I see.” She really didn't.

 

Evangeline let out a non-committal hum at the Spartan's curt reply, returning with two bowls filled with what she guessed were the snacks, setting them down on the table.

 

“So, you pick a movie yet?”

 

“I believe I have.” Linda nodded after a moment's consideration.

 

“ _The Martian,_ huh? Good choice.” Evangeline hummed approvingly, already snatching up something from one of the bowls. “Alright, hit it.”

 

* * *

 

Spartans didn't get much time to themselves – most of the time between battles was spent either in cryosleep, or preparing for the fights ahead. They weren't known for making a habit of watching ancient movies from the 21st century, while consuming junk food.

 

Despite initial awkwardness, however, the experience was not as bad as Linda thought it would be. Commander Graves had soon lapsed into silence, her attention on the large screen occupying most of the opposite wall.

 

The movie was about a botanist, of all people, left behind on the titular planet of Mars, his crew thinking him dead. With limited supplies and no means of communicating his survival, he nonetheless staunchly refused to admit defeat. With determination typical to people who had nothing to lose but their life, Mark Watney had, in his own words, colonized Mars. The Spartan could not help but feel somewhat amused by the Neil Armstrong remark, in particular.

 

Though much like many of the jokes Commander Graves said, most of Watney's dry-witted humour was lost upon her. That's just how things were.

 

Close to two and a half hours were spent in rather companionable silence as they watched the movie, and it was only when the credits rolled that the silence was broken.

 

“So? What do you think?” Evangeline turned to look at the Spartan.

 

“It certainly was interesting, Commander.” Linda replied, somewhat amused to see a smile break out on the woman's face, as if she'd been hoping for that sort of answer.

 

“Well, I'm glad to hear that. Doesn't hurt to let your hair down once in a while, you know?” Evangeline reached for the nearly-empty bowls, standing up and depositing the scarce few contents back into the food printer. In a couple of hours, the leftovers would be reprocessed. Waste not, want not.

 

“I suppose that's true.”

 

“Seriously, though. If you need anything, just ask. Same goes for everyone else on this ship.”

 

“Duly noted, Commander.”

 

* * *

 

27th of July

UNSC Hyperion

Reach

 

* * *

 

“Commander.”

 

“Johnson.” Evangeline returned the greeting as she made her way to the food printer. “Anything good on the news?”

 

“Nah, can't say there is. Just a bunch of drivel on the Waypoint, too.” The sergeant shook his head, returning his attention to the screen, continuing to browse through the channels.

 

“ _-somebody stop the goddamn match-”_

 

Beep.

 

“ _-but wait, there's more-”_

 

Beep.

 

“ _-scored a decisive victory against the Covenant-”_

 

Beep.

 

“Whoa, hey! Go back to that one!”

 

“Sure thing, ma'am.” Johnson complied.

 

“ _-Venture. Under the command of Vice Admiral Danforth Whitcomb, Battlegroup_ Ironclad _successfully engaged and destroyed the attacking Covenant fleet in its entirety.”_ Announced the reporter on the screen. _“We haven't been told much yet, but supposedly, Admiral Whitcomb's ships were test-beds for prototype technology that enabled his fleet to act with overwhelming force against the Covenant. An award ceremony is scheduled to take place on Reach today, followed by a press conference.”_

 

“ _Commander we have an inbound message from Admiral Stanforth.”_ Cortana suddenly announced through the intercom. _“You are to attend the award ceremony at Reach High Command at thirteen-hundred sharp, local time.”_

 

“Man, what are the odds of that?” Johnson chuckled.

 

* * *

 

Highland Mountains

Reach High Command

 

* * *

 

“Commander Graves?” A voice drew Evangeline from her reverie and she turned around. A captain in white dress uniform approached her and she saluted. “At ease. I'm Captain Grace Harlock.” The older woman stuck out a hand, which Evangeline shook. Harlock was a fair bit older than her, the woman's once-brown hair almost uniformly white. She had a somewhat severe, wearied look about her, giving Evangeline the impression that she got from most UNSC personnel – that over twenty years of war had not been easy on their resolve.

 

“ _November's_ your command, right?” She spoke, recalling the heavy carrier that had screened Whitcomb's fleet during the engagement over New Venture.

 

“The very same.” Harlock nodded. “The Covenant didn't even manage to scratch her back at New Venture. I hear that we've got you to thank for that.”

 

“That much is true, yes. But that's all I'm allowed to say on that matter, for the time being.”

 

“I see. Well, if it can help even the odds, I won't look a gift horse in the mouth.” Harlock looked through the window - dozens of reporters were crowding in the atrium, two stories below. More than a few UNSC personnel were among them.

 

“That's what I'm aiming for, ma'am.” Evangeline nodded, turning to briefly look at the other officers already present – Victor Shaw of _Eton Path,_ Katrina Vicci of _Ten Years Kashmir,_ Jacob Keyes of _Iroquois,_ Erwin Rodel of _Valor,_ Andrei Vosboinikov of _Resist and Bite,_ his left arm in a sling, and several more men and women that had distinguished themselves in the battle of New Venture.

 

“Can't help but notice you're keeping to yourself, Commander. I take it that this is your first award ceremony, then?” Harlock inquired.

 

“Yes, it is, ma'am.” Well, it was half the truth, at least. The other half was that she didn't feel like she belonged there. Her ship bore UNSC's logo, she had UNSC personnel serving under her command, and she took her orders from UNSC officers. Yet that did little to dispel the truth – she was a woman out of time, and out of place. She'd been given significant leeway, solely because of the usefulness of what she offered to UNSC's war machine.

 

Of course, she didn't voice any of that to Harlock. Instead, she smiled and nodded as the older woman reassured that there was nothing to worry about.

 

* * *

 

Another medal was pinned to a chest as Stanforth congratulated the recipient. Another salute, and the admiral moved on down the line, turning to the officer holding a wooden case with the awards. With every medal that he picked up, Stanforth drew closer to Evangeline. She had to resist the urge to fidget, instead resolutely keeping her gaze ahead.

 

Before long, Stanforth was in front of her, picking up the very last medal.

 

“Commander Evangeline Graves,” the admiral began, as the whole room waited with a bated breath. “For meritorious service with Task Force Daedalus, and spearheading critical technological breakthroughs, you are hereby awarded the Bronze Star. Wear it proudly, Commander.” He took half a step back, saluting the woman, who immediately returned it.

 

“Thank you, sir. Honoured to serve, sir.” She replied smartly.

 

“I know you are, Commander.” Stanforth nodded. “Now, I do believe you have a press conference to attend.”

 

“Sir?”

 

“The press conference, Commander. A lot of people will want to know everything there is to know about the fruits of your labour. Well, at least everything that's not classified.”

 

“Why me, sir?” Evangeline asked as the other officers began to disperse.

 

“You won't talk yourself in a corner, unlike some others. No one else knows your ship's technology better than you.”

 

“Except the Engineers.” She noted drily.

 

“Except the Engineers.” Stanforth nodded in agreement. “Just keep a cool head, and you'll do fine.”

 

“Sir.”

 

* * *

 

The conference had gone quite smoothly, all things considered. The reporters had listened attentively as she recited the details she'd committed to memory beforehand. Of course, there were some naysayers, both well-intentioned and plain stupid. They were quickly pacified with high-definition images and videos of far-off locations like California Nebula or the red supergiant Antares. Furore had almost been raised at seeing a flyby of a black hole.

 

And when they asked her what advantages the frameshift drive had over a slipspace drive, she had the answers ready - it was faster, more accurate, and much more reliable than what Wallace Fujikawa and Tobias Shaw had invented.

An FSD did not require quadrillions of calculations to maintain a quantum field, routine maintenance of the device did not involve the remote – but still present – risk of suddenly vanishing from existence, and it was all but foolproof to use. With few exceptions like the loss of Jasmina Halsey's Starship One, the overwhelming majority of ships lost were to either combat or human error. Explorers returned from places like Formidine Rift, their ships battered and worn, but they returned under their own power.

 

In either case, seeing recordings of UNSC ships drop down from supercruise in perfect formation and plasma torpedoes splashing against energy shields had silenced the disbelievers quickly.

 

Indeed, the press conference had gone down very well.

 

It's just that none other than Margaret Paragonsky met her while returning to _Hyperion._

 

* * *

Doctor Halsey had been right – Paragonsky was an extremely dangerous woman. Under her gaze, Evangeline felt as if the head of ONI knew her every secret, no matter how sacred or dark.

 

“Commander Graves.” Paragonsky spoke with a relaxed, yet icy tone.

 

“Admiral.” She saluted crisply in return.

 

The two bald, suited goons behind the older woman hadn't moved an inch. Each had an M6C/SOCOM on their hip.

 

“At ease, Commander.” The elderly admiral ordered, taking a step closer, a sharp look in her eyes. “You're Stanforth's new protégé, then?”

 

“That'd be me, yes.” Evangeline cautiously replied, to which Paragonsky smiled thinly.

 

“Relax, Commander. You're not in trouble. Not yet, at least.”

 

_That's reassuring._

 

“Quite the _magnum opus_ you presented back there, I have to admit.” Paragonsky continued, unfazed. “I do wonder what the catch is, though.”

 

“There is no catch, ma'am.” Evangeline shook her head. “I presented my requests to Admiral Hood. He found them acceptable.”

 

“Mm.” Paragonsky nodded slowly. “I'm sure I don't have to tell you that Stanforth disregarded a fair amount of protocol to get you where you are, Commander. I wouldn't have liked doing it, but I would've had to leave him to hang if things hadn't panned out.”

 

“I don't plan on letting him down, Admiral. I don't plan on letting anyone down.”

 

“A fine sentiment, but actions speak louder than words.” Paragonsky looked over her shoulder, dismissing her guards with a brief gesture. Once they were out of earshot, she spoke again, in a quieter voice. “But at least your head's in the right place. Which doesn't exactly match up with Ackerson's opinion of you.”

 

“I get the feeling that the good Colonel doesn't have a high opinion of most people, ma'am.”

 

“A word to the wise, Commander – some elements within ONI will not approve of this. Their plans have been rendered useless. If I were you, I'd take... precautions, to avert potential sabotage.”

 

“Duly noted, Admiral.”

 

“As you were, Commander.” Paragonsky nodded once more before turning about. It wasn't until the elderly admiral had disappeared from sight that Evangeline let out a relieved sigh. Despite Paragonsky's advanced age and frail physique, the conversation still had felt like a Minesweeper game from Hell.

 

“Cortana, you there?” She spoke, activating the comm-bead in her ear.

 

“ _Always, Commander. What can I do for you?”_

 

“Have the blueprints ready for me when I'm back. I think we need to make some adjustments.”

 

 


	13. I don't even like fish

29th of July

Reach

Military Wilderness Training Preserve

 

* * *

 

The first thing Evangeline noticed was the verdant green surrounding her as she hopped off from _Hyperion's_ cargo platform. With the nearest UNSC presence being over fifty kilometres away, the only sounds other than those of nature were _Hyperion's_ engines winding down.

 

Sunlight – actual sunlight, not the clinical glare of artificial lighting - filtered down through tree branches, warming her skin and she grinned lazily. She took a deep breath, enjoying the rich, earthy smell of a forest in bloom. Air onboard starships and starports was thoroughly cleansed and sterilised, robbing it of any fragrance.

 

“Commander?” Kelly landed at her side with a soft thump as the rest of the ground crew disembarked.

 

“Just give me a moment. I won't take long.” With that, Evangeline made her way over to the nearest tree, sitting down against it.

 

“This is actually the second habitable planet I've landed on in my entire life, you know.” She spoke a moment later to Kelly, who seemed to be regarding her with something akin to mild curiosity.

 

“Really?”

 

“Mhm. Grew up on a starport – Edmonson High in Beta Hydri. Sixteen years of breathing canned air, drinking recycled water, and eating synthetic food. Then I joined the Federal Navy and did the exact same thing for eight more years, except on a battlecruiser.”

 

“You must have visited Earth at some point, at the very least.”

 

“Nah, too rich for my blood.” Evangeline shook her head. “I was just a lowly knuckledragger assigned to the engine room of _FNS Zenith._ Shore leave was the closest I ever got to being on _terra firma.”_

 

“That must've sucked.” Kelly nodded sympathetically.

 

“Can't say it did. I never really knew any better. Going into battle was unnerving, both the first time and all the times after. But all we could do was put our trust in our Captain and bear with it.”

 

Kelly could relate to that – being stuck in a naval engagement was a special kind of hell for a Spartan. They were not meant to idly sit around, twiddling their thumbs. Spending one's entire life without actual dirt touching their feet was news, however. The Spartans – all seventy-five of them – had spent eight years on Reach as Chief Mendez trained them in the arts of war.

 

“True enough, Commander.” Kelly nodded before continuing. “I've been meaning to ask – is there a Reach where you come from?”

 

“Well, it's called New California, but it's the same planet in the same system.” Evangeline nodded.

 

“What sort of a world is it?”

 

“Luxury tourism. Of the legal and not-so-legal kind. You'd think a system on Sol's doorstep would've outlawed slavery and narcotics, but that's not the case, sadly. The right amount of money in the right hands will get you far in the Federation.”

 

“Well. That's disappointing to hear.”

 

“Mm.” Evangeline let out a small hum. “Doesn't help that Jasmina Halsey was a pretty shitty President. Not that Hudson's any better, but that's neither here or now. Let's get going.”

 

“Yes, Commander.” Kelly nodded as the other woman pulled herself upright.

 

“Can't say that New California can hold a candle to Reach, though.”

 

“Now you're just saying things, Commander.”

 

“I mean it. New California's pretty much covered with casinos, resorts, and hotels. Light pollution is a pain, from what I've heard. But this?” Evangeline gestured around her. “Beautiful. Then again, I'm a spacer who's spent her entire life in space, so I might be a little biased.”

 

* * *

 

It was almost an hour later that they reached their destination – Big Horn River. The wide band of pristine blue water wove lazily through Longhorn Valley from its source in the distant Highland Mountains.

 

Evangeline turned briefly to regard the others – everyone was armed with training weapons loaded with paintball pellets. Johnson and Stacker were each holding a flag – a red and a blue one, respectively.

 

“What do you think, Commander?” Fred asked, stepping up alongside her. Like everyone else, he was clad in Marine BDU, along with a full-face helmet. “Capture The Flag, Team Deathmatch, King Of The Hill, or Free-For-All?”

 

“Like you wouldn't dominate that last one.” She chuckled in return. “I think that first one will do just fine for now. We can mix it up a little later.”

 

“Of course, Commander.”

 

* * *

 

Jenkins ducked under a stream of pellets – to his right, Jackson and O'Brien joined their flag carrier in cover behind a fallen tree. Not long after, Sergeant Stacker followed, with another two Marines – Kowalski made it there untouched, but Carlton caught a burst of paint in his face, the bright orange hue covering his visor. With an annoyed noise, he stumbled over and fell to the ground. The Marine pulled himself upright, grumbling as he wiped his visor clean of the paint.

 

“You know, getting shot in the face gets real old, real quick...” Carlton complained before stalking off to wait out the rest of the round alongside the other 'casualties'.

 

“Well, at least we know for sure there's Spartans ahead.” O'Brien sighed as he plucked a small plastic canister from his bandolier. Jackson and Stacker did the same – upon an unspoken command, they tossed the practice grenades over the tree trunk. A split-second later, they detonated, small explosive charges scattering a hundred millilitres of non-toxic, water-soluble paint over where the ambush had come from. The Spartan – or Spartans – would have already pulled back out of the grenades' effective radius, but it would give them time to lay down suppressive fire and give Jenkins enough of a head start, until he could pass the flag to a Spartan on their team, or return it to base.

 

Stacker patted the Marine on his back, giving him the go-ahead to move as he, Jackson, and Kowalski rose to cover his movement with suppressive fire.

 

Immediately, he bolted, letting his legs and adrenaline to carry him towards the other side of Big Horn River. Not even ten seconds later, the dry chatter of his team's weapons cut off, which he decided to take as a bad sign. He gripped the red flag tighter as the treeline thinned out ahead of him, soon thereafter splashing through the shallowest part of the river. The motion tracker on his visor remained empty, for what it was worth, yet it didn't reassure him in the slightest. Spartans could move like ghosts when they wanted to. They were even stealthier when out of armour.

 

His train of thought was brought to a jarring halt as he felt his boot snag onto something – without thinking twice, he let his knees fold. Just out of the corner of his vision, he could see a stream of pellets whiz past, from a rifle strapped to a tree.

 

As he came to a halt against a tree trunk, he felt his blood go cold, seeing one of the Spartans bear down on him – the redhead sniper, Linda. Out of the Spartans of Blue Team, she was the one who spoke the least. And frankly, she terrified him.

 

The Spartan, in the middle of retrieving the flag from Jenkins, suddenly whirled about, firing off a series of shots into the bushes behind her. Muffled cursing followed soon thereafter as his teammates left the field.

 

Linda turned back to Jenkins, who was still on the ground with the flag. The marine had his weapon up, pointed right at her. She turned to look at the splatter of paint on her right arm.

 

She looked back at Jenkins.

 

Jenkins looked like he might just pass out.

 

“Good shot.”

 

It was the only match that did not end in a tie.

 

* * *

 

“So what happened?”

 

“Well, he interdicts me, with his stupid little Gunship. I zero the throttle, because, hey, it's free pocket change. Once we're both back down to sublight, he scans me – I'm flying an Anaconda, mind – except I had fuck-all in my cargo hold, which really annoyed him. Then he goes all 'how do you fools make a living?'”

 

“How'd you respond, Commander?” Stacker asked from his position around the campfire.

 

“I said 'let me show you', deployed my hardpoints, and blew him to pieces.”

 

“Geez, how'd _he_ get his pilot's license?” Stacker chuckled in disbelief, as did several other Marines.

 

“Guess we'll never find out.” Evangeline shrugged. “I swear, some of them have the self-preservation instinct of a goddamn lemming.” She went back to picking at the roasted fish in her fingers, plucking the thin bones from the meat before tossing them into the crackling bonfire.

 

The Spartans, at the conclusion of their small wargames, had crafted fishing poles out of several green saplings and what they had in their pockets. A little under two hours later, they had returned with a over a dozen perch, strung on a fishing line. While Blue Team prepared the fishes for cooking, everyone else cleaned up or helped start the campfire.

 

All in all, Evangeline had to admit – the Spartans' training was second to none. When asked about it, they mentioned a 'Chief Mendez' – and from the way they spoke about him it was clear that they had nothing but respect for the man. Whoever had trained UNSC's finest had to be one hell of a hardcore man, indeed.

 

Even Emperor Duval's personal bodyguard, the Praetorians, definitely were no match for Spartans – while the Empire provided only the best armour and weaponry, their sense of honour would prevent them from doing things a Spartan would have no qualms about. Praetorians preferred to face their enemies one on one. A Spartan would ambush their target before they had the chance to respond – they would lay traps, prepare decoys, things that any Imperial soldier would find dishonourable.

 

Not to mention a Praetorian couldn't catch a fish if their life depended on it.

 

* * *

 

“You know, if you want to ask about the scar, I won't mind.” Evangeline's voice jarred Linda from her introspection, and the Spartan tore her eyes away from the large, lightning-shaped scar covering most of the other woman's left leg.

 

“Apologies, Commander. I did not mean to stare.”

 

“Like I said, I don't mind if you want to ask about it.” Evangeline shrugged as she donned her everyday clothes, her Remlok suit safely stored in a locker inside _Hyperion's_ changing room. In here, a number of hardsuits and overalls were kept, for whatever purpose they might be needed by the crew.

 

“If you insist, Commander.”

 

“Alright. So, it was year 3297, and _FNS Zenith_ was patrolling the Federal border. Deploying long range tachyon scanners, investigating signals in deep space, that sort of stuff. Except some of Archon Delaine's punks are ballsy enough to attack a Farragut, even if it's on its own.” Evangeline's voice had more than a small amount of vitriol in as she mentioned the Archon. “Turns out a fleet of those bastards had been shadowing us for about two weeks, looking for the best time to ambush us. Which they did, unfortunately. Caught us with out shields down, crippled our engines, and went to board us. I was in Engineering at the time, hard at work to get the auxiliary plasma conduits working. The torpedoes they hit us with did a number on our telemetry systems, leaving us effectively blind – for all we knew, the bulkheads could be melting at that very moment. The Chief Engineer was knocked out, leaving me in charge for the time being. I was being groomed as his assistant, see.”

 

The Spartan nodded, but didn't utter a single word as the other woman continued.

 

“Anyways, the primary plasma conduits were toast – no way they'd be able to funnel plasma to engines without failing a split-second later. The secondaries were looking quite dicey, too. Had to deploy the last back-up – a series of tungsten sleeves that lock around compromised sections of plasma conduits if their magnetic containment fields aren't working. Had to trigger it from the main control terminal. An easy task, except we're listing to port, there's no gravity, and there's busted power cables swinging everywhere. But I was not in the mood to die from a reactor breach, or get an obedience collar slapped around my neck. So off I went, clinging to gantries. Didn't take me long to reach the terminal – one thing you learn quickly on a Farragut is to get around fast, even in zero gee. Activated the back-ups, gave the go-ahead to the bridge. And just a moment later, a loose power cable smacks me in the leg.”

 

Linda watched intently, seeing tension ripple through Evangeline's shoulders.

 

“Worst pain I'd ever felt. The current fried the nerves in my leg, fused my hardsuit to the skin, and damn near stopped my heart. Next thing I know, I'm waking up in a hospital, doped up to my eyeballs. When I was lucid enough to hold a conversation, the doctors told me they'd have to remove the leg. I was, shall we say, pretty upset at that.” Evangeline smiled thinly. “Really, I would've ended up spending the rest of my life as a cripple, living off the Federal pension, if it weren't for Top Cat.”

 

“Top Cat?” Linda inquired.

 

“Yeah, that's what we called _Zenith's_ captain – Daniel Carmine. I couldn't afford a progenitor cell treatment on my salary, so he paid for it in full, out of his own pocket. And in less than two weeks, I was walking on my own two legs again. Top Cat never asked me to repay him, either.”

 

“He sounds like a good man.”

 

“That he is.” Evangeline agreed. “Rumour had it that he'd been an admiral before being busted down a rank after butting heads with Admiral Vincent. Turns out that raising Cain with a friend of the President isn't all that wise.”

 

Linda frowned at that – from what she'd been told, the Federal system was rife with corruption and blackmail. Clearly, her displeasure was visible, as Evangeline nodded in agreement a moment later.

 

“It's shitty, I know. Money will open a lot of doors for you in the Federation, but when the government can't even take care of the people who'll risk life and limb for their politicking, well... enough is enough. Soon as I finished my second tour, I got a discharge. Signed up with the Pilots Federation. And after a lifetime of Federal propaganda, it was a bit of a shock to find out that the galaxy's not painted in black and white. Used to scare us in the orphanage with 'behave or Hengist Duval's going to come along and turn you into a slave.'” Evangeline sighed deeply before rubbing her face. “Sorry, didn't mean to just go off on a rant like that.”

 

“It sounds like this has been bothering you for some time, Commander.”

 

“I guess it was, yeah.” Evangeline admitted sheepishly. “Again, sorry. Didn't mean to vent.”

 

Linda shrugged ever so slightly. “I do not mind, Commander.”

 

“I appreciate you humouring me all the same, Linda.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day may come when I stop writing filler. But it is not this day.


	14. Covenant cannot into jumponium

6th of August

Uncharted space

UNSC Hyperion

 

* * *

 

“Our target is a Covenant comms relay station.” On cue, a holographic representation of said station popped into existence above the table - it was vaguely flower-like in its shape; a long central beam with a saucer-shaped section on top. A great deal of antennae jutted from its surface. “It’s floating in the upper atmosphere of a Class I gas giant, right in the middle of a storm. This station receives and relays dozens, maybe hundreds of orders every day.”

 

“So we fly there and blow it to pieces, Commander?” Johnson was the first to speak.

 

“Not this time, Sergeant.” Evangeline shook her head. “We infiltrate the station and upload a virus Cortana’s been working on. It will edit the orders before dispatching them to their recipients. Instead of travelling to their assigned muster zones in UNSC space, the Covenant ships will instead jump to dangerous stellar remnants - like neutron stars or black holes, leading to their almost assured destruction.”

 

“Sounds like a plan, ma’am. One thing, though - how are we going to get at the station if it’s in the middle of a storm on a gas giant?”

 

“Well, I thought that was self-explanatory - we’ll brave the storm.”

 

“Oh.” Johnson blinked.

 

“Yep.” Evangeline nodded. “Get everything that’s loose tied down. It’s going to be one hell of a bumpy ride.”

 

* * *

 

“I take it you’ve done this before, Commander?” Sawyer inquired as the ochre-streaked gas giant grew steadily bigger, many megametres ahead of  _ Hyperion. _

 

“A couple of times, yeah.” Evangeline nodded. “Not as efficient as refuelling from a star, but it’s saved my skin a few times. Cortana, do you have the trajectory ready?”

 

“Affirmative, Commander.” The AI reported.

 

“Great. Put it on-screen.” Immediately, a dotted line appeared on the windows, trailing away from  _ Hyperion’s  _ prow down towards the edge of the storm cell. “Crew status?”

 

“Sergeant Stacker reports all cargo is secure, and all personnel are ready for the final approach.”

 

“Guess it’s now or never. Let’s do this.” With that, Evangeline gunned the throttle, sending the corvette hurtling towards the gas giant. With seasoned ease, she manoeuvred her ship in accordance with Cortana’s trajectory. With every passing second, they drew ever closer to the planet’s exclusion zone. To their left, the yawning chasm of the storm cell swirled relentlessly.

 

“We’re dropping from supercruise in seven seconds. Brace for turbulence.” Evangeline announced over the intercom before tightly gripping the controls. Sawyer and Miller did the same.

 

When  _ Hyperion  _ dropped down, it was almost immediately snatched up by a ferocious current of wind. The gees exerted upon the ship’s crew would’ve likely knocked them out were it not for the inertia dampeners working overtime. The masterpiece of Core Dynamics was capable of maneuvers that would snap any atmospheric craft in two, but the storm’s currents tested its airframe to the very limits - groans of tortured metal echoed throughout its hull as Evangeline wrestled with the controls to keep the ship from spinning out of control.

 

* * *

 

“Talk about a view to die for…” Johnson muttered in awe, his usually boisterous voice barely audible over the rumble of  _ Hyperion’s  _ hull. The cargo bay’s holo-emitters were active, displaying a live feed from the exterior cameras. The ship was skirting the very edge of the storm, providing a spectacular view down to the very bottom of the churning walls of gas and dust.

 

_ “Initiating burn in three, two, one, mark.” _ The engines roared fiercely as  _ Hyperion _ banked to left, its built-up momentum pushing the ship out from the current. As the maneuver was completed, they found themselves soaring through the relatively calm eye of the storm towards the relay station.

 

The Covenant installation was a smooth and shiny construction almost the size of a  _ Halcyon- _ class cruiser, kept aloft by a set of repulsor engines on the underside.

 

_ “We’ll be docking in just a moment. Check your hardsuits, everyone.” _

 

The Marines did as ordered, helping each other inspect the hardsuits taken from  _ Hyperion’s  _ inventory.

 

The suits were a drab grey colour, composed of a one-size-fits-all undersuit, a pair of magnetizable gauntlets capable of adhering to most known materials, a pair of mag-boots, a reinforced cuirass containing vital life support systems, and a reinforced plexiglass helmet capable of auto-polarizing its visor in less than a hundredth of a second. Each suit was capable of providing oxygen for almost five hours, had an IFF tracker, and each gauntlet had a built-in hydrocable harpoon for getting around when walking wasn’t an option.

 

“All suits are in working condition, Commander.” Johnson replied before slipping his helmet over his head. There was a hiss-click as the atmospheric seals engaged, and the helmet’s HUD winked into life. Everyone else had a triangle hovering above their heads, along with a small tag and vitals readout. His own status was displayed in the upper left corner.

 

_ “I’m glad to hear that, Sergeant. DERVISH is active. Be ready to disembark.” _

 

DERVISH was the name for a prototype ECM suite Cortana had developed following their successful sabotage of the Covenant supply station. In passive mode, it would conceal  _ Hyperion _ from most known Covenant sensors. In active mode, it used the ship’s emitters to conceal its signature as something that wouldn’t be out of place in the particular area. In this case, the relay station’s sensors saw the corvette as nothing more than an errant gust of wind. The only way they could be seen was if the Covenant looked out of a window, or knew the emitter frequency.

 

A tremor ran through the cargo bay’s floor as  _ Hyperion _ landed. A second later, the cargo platform began to lower - almost immediately, everyone’s audio filters kicked in as wind began to balefully howl through the mostly-empty cargo bay. Blue Team were the first to disembark, taking up positions as the corvette’s Marine complement followed.

 

“I’ve never been afraid of heights, but this is making me reconsider.” Bisenti muttered uneasily, sparing half a glance to the edge of the landing platform. Despite the energy fields surrounding the platform, the gale-force winds still would’ve carried the Marines off their feet, if not for the mag-locked boots. Even the Spartans had to hunch over slightly to lower their centre of mass.

 

“Then just don’t look down, Bisenti.” Mendoza piped up.

 

“‘Don’t look down’, really?”

 

Before they could continue bickering, Evangeline joined them, laser carbine held in one hand. “Alright, you two can gossip later. Blue Team, you got your copies of the virus?”

 

The Spartans nodded.

 

“Stacker? Johnson?”

 

The two Marines nodded as well.

 

“Good to know. Let’s move out.” With that, they set towards the airlock that would lead them inside the station. The door’s software didn’t put up much of a resistance to one of their modified spoofers, dubbed ‘Agent Smith’. No alarms were raised, and the cameras kept broadcasting a looped video feed as the infiltrators crept inside.

 

“You know, if it were me, I’d have kept at least a single ship keeping an eye out.” Mendoza muttered as Evangeline went over the station’s schematics.

 

“Well, from what I’ve seen, arrogance and overconfidence is something the Covenant have in spades. I mean, they’ve don’t even bother encrypting their communications. And we’re going to make the most of it. Like good sergeant Johnson said, ‘feed them humble pie until they beg for mercy’. High five!”

 

Johnson obliged.

 

“Eureka!” Evangeline exclaimed quietly a moment later - the station schematics spun for a split-second, outer layers of the hologram peeling away to reveal a complicated-looking cluster of cables near the core of the station. “There we go - that looks important. Cortana, what can you tell us?”

 

_ “I am detecting a great deal of data being uploaded and downloaded from this location. Temperature readings suggest that this data core has significant cooling systems devoted to its operation. This installation’s bandwidth capabilities likely are much greater than those of standard Waypoint hubs.” _

 

“Then that’s our target.” Evangeline nodded before turning to face her crew. “Alright - I’m sure that I don’t have to explain to you that we really can’t afford to screw the pooch this time. We want the Covenant to be none the wiser about this act of sabotage. It’s why you’ve been given silenced weapons this time around.” She gestured to the M7S SMGs and M6C/SOCOMs they held. “Any questions? No? Good. Autobots, roll out.”

 

* * *

 

The relay station’s interior was no different than that of any other Covenant construct - dark purples and bright blues, with cavernous corridors and doors that slid open with a soft chime. The only thing that gave away the station’s unsavoury position was the subtle, but persistent rumble of the winds battering it. There were few open spaces, too - just about every nook and cranny was occupied by one sub-system or another, leaving the saboteurs with precious little cover as they proceeded deeper inside the station.

 

Nonetheless, John had to admit that the planetside exercise on Reach had been a good decision - the rest of the Marines now moved fluidly, never leaving an angle uncovered. Well, at least ones that they knew of - a Spartan would still find a weak spot. But it satisfied him to see everyone work together like a well-oiled machine, instead of a bunch of Marines tagging along with Spartans. If nothing else, they seemed less jumpy around his team. If you could not rely on the soldier next to you, you might as well be dead, as Chief Mendez was fond of saying.

 

They passed through yet another junction - yet again, the cameras covering the entrances remained inert, and no patrols were encountered. To think that the Covenant would leave an important component of their military infrastructure so grossly understaffed beggared belief. Then again, examples of the Covenant’s arrogant overconfidence were commonly seen throughout the war, most tellingly when Admiral Preston Cole had annihilated two entire fleets at the cost of his own life in the battle of Psi Serpentis. By blowing up a gas giant, no less. But his death had been a greater loss - for five years, his campaigns through the Outer Colonies had kept UNSC’s defences from crumbling in the face of their merciless enemy. After Psi Serpentis, the Covenant hadn’t wasted any time swarming the colonies, and large swathes of UNSC space went dark in the following years.

 

With a bit of luck that UNSC sorely needed, the battle of New Venture would mark a turning point in the war.

 

* * *

 

It was damned cold in the Covenant data core - so cold, that even the Spartans felt it. Fortunately, everyone’s suits ensured the temperature remained a minor inconvenience. Just about every surface was coated in a layer of ice, except for the hulking device occupying most of the room, glowing a faint 8.16 degrees Celsius on their scanners.

 

“This is it.” Evangeline grinned victoriously as she made her way over to the thrumming data core. She knelt down in front of the control terminal, affixing the spoofer to its interface.

 

“Mister Anderson…” ‘Agent Smith’ droned ominously as it sprung into life, lines of green code crawling across its black screen. It wasn’t long before its decryption software had cracked the terminal - with data fragments salvaged from Covenant wrecks above New Venture and polymorphic decryption software given to her by Evangeline, Cortana had spent the better part of a week marrying the three disparate systems together. The result was a cyberwarfare software that few networks could resist, whether UNSC or Covenant. Its only limitation was that it needed open symmetric keys to work its magic, and Hyperion’s data storage only held a finite number of those.

 

“Alright, we have access. Chips, please.” A short moment passed before six data chips were placed in her outstretched palm. “Thank you kindly.” She plugged one of the chips into ‘Agent Smith’. Its screen blinked again as the malware was uploaded into the station’s network. Several seconds passed before it beeped once, and she plugged in the next chip. Each of the thumb-sized devices held a copy of Cortana’s virus. While one of the copies would remain in the station to tamper with the communications, the others would piggyback across Covenant ships, causing whatever trouble they could make, wherever they went.

 

Of course, given the distances involved, it would be months before any effects would be seen. Not that this was meant to stop an enemy as relentless as the Covenant. UNSC was in a dire need of breathing space that could only be achieved by hamstringing the Covenant war machine. 

 

“And that’s the last one.” Evangeline announced a couple of minutes later, double-checking that there were no traces of tampering that would give anything away, on the off chance someone actually decided to investigate the data core.

 

“That’s it? Feels a little anti-climactic.” Kelly quipped.

 

“Well, I mean we could shoot our way out, but that’d kinda defeat the whole point of infiltration.” Evangeline replied as she stood up. “Let’s double-time it back to  _ Hyperion. _ Time to make like a tree, and get out of here.”

 

* * *

_ Light of Devotion _ was a fine vessel. The assault carrier was a brand new ship, with a fine crew that had performed admirably during its trial runs.

 

Yet a dead star still snapped it in two like a dry twig. Even before it had finished its transition from slipspace, the high-energy jet from the neutron star had swept the warship up, simultaneously cracking its hull and bathing it in lethal amounts of radiation. A couple of seconds later, its accompanying fleet arrived. They fared no better, unable to escape to slipspace due to the stellar remnant’s immense mass.

 

In the deep darkness of uncharted space, none heard the screams of thousands as their ships were torn to shreds. In less than three minutes, the Fleet of Reverent Piety was no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neutron stars are fucking scary.


	15. Like a glove

10th of August

Reach

Anchor 12

 

* * *

 

It was with much fanfare that the refit of _UNSC Normandy_ begun. The supercarrier had been detached from Admiral Morrison’s Sixth Fleet following a particularly vicious engagement. _Normandy_ had fought fiercely, destroying seven Covenant battlecruisers on her own. Battlegroup _Ironclad_ had ably supported the fleet, coming to Morrison’s aid in under ten minutes - with Whitcomb’s help, a costly defeat was turned into another victory for the UNSC.

 

Although _Normandy_ had been hit by several plasma torpedoes during the battle in deep space, she returned to Reach under her own power. The repair crews hadn’t wasted any time preparing the supercarrier to receive its new parts. A fleet of freighters was already making the final approach with their precious cargo.

 

The rest of Reach’s Anchor stations were similarly occupied by the carriers _Ark Royal, Lexington, Queensryche, Sabaton, Whitesnake,_ and the cruisers _Ramillies, Sundowner, Warspite, Gracemeria, Carentan, Strangereal, Stormchaser, Lodbrok, Gallipoli, Valfader, Leviathan._ Indeed, a significant amount of material and funding had been diverted to the refit efforts. Of course, some in the UNSC complained about having their funding reduced, but few were ballsy enough to be loud about it. Evangeline Graves had the support of more than one admiral. To go against them would be tantamount to career suicide.

 

* * *

 

“So, what I’m thinking is we take a couple of the bigger civilian freighters, and refit them as well - shield generators, FSDs, reactors, fuel scoops. The cargo bays are also replaced, with additional fuel tanks and H-fusion reactors. And last but not least, slap one of those ODG wireless energy transmitters on top.” Evangeline busily explained to Cortana, peeling away bits and pieces from the holographic blueprint, and deftly adding new ones in place. “Put a couple of these in support role of a fleet, and they can wirelessly charge the shields of ships in need of extra power.”

 

“I can see the merit in that.” Cortana nodded thoughtfully. “Such a ship could potentially save thousands of lives. Not to mention warships that we can ill afford to lose.”

 

“That’s what I had in mind, yeah. Forward it to Stanforth, please, and let me know when we’ve got a response from him.”

 

“Done and dusted, Commander.” Cortana announced proudly.

 

“Much obliged. Now, how’s the progress on the FSD manuals?”

 

“There aren’t a lot of places left that print actual paper these days - or anything resembling such.” Cortana crossed her arms across her chest.

 

“Even Sidewinders have paperback manuals - and complimentary vacuum flasks -  and that’s in the 34th century.”

 

“Worry not, Commander.” The AI grinned victoriously. “I commissioned a local newspaper for this. The first shipment should be ready for distribution in about a week.”

 

“Thank you, Cortana. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

 

“I’m just doing my duty, Commander.” Cortana tried to appear humble and modest, but even a blind man could see she enjoyed the praise.

 

“Careful, your Halsey is showing.” Evangeline waited for Cortana to stop snickering before continuing. “And last but not least, the FSD failsafes. Have they been implemented?”

 

“They have, yes. Far as no one tampers with the FSD of a starship, no trouble will arise. And if anyone were to try fiddle with it, the whole system shuts down.” The AI gained a markedly vicious expression. “I also had discreet cameras installed in the vicinity, running on a separate network. We’ll be able to catch the culprits with their pants down, as it were.”

 

Evangeline nodded silently, Paragonsky’s warning still fresh in her mind. She still had a little difficulty believing that someone would try to hamper her efforts to aid UNSC. Then again, it wasn’t much different from the power plays in Federal politics. Except it was the fate of humanity that was at stake here.

 

The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

 

* * *

 

The Spartans, for all their stoic appearance, each had their own distinctions - even when it came to food.

 

John treated every meal like just another mission - he came and went with all the precision of a quantum clock. His meals contained nothing sweet or sugary, just high-nutrition foods. If there ever was a literal depiction of the food pyramid, it’d be John.

 

Kelly ate quickly, capable of finishing her meals in less than a minute if she wanted to. Her palate tended to favour foods that was eye-watering at best of times. Johnson had walked for the rest of the day with a box of tissues on hand after eating a spoonful of particularly hot curry on a dare.

 

Linda’s routine wasn’t much different from John’s, though she always had a cup of tea with her when she ate. And she ate so quietly, it was easy to forget that the Spartan was present. Which, in turn, led to everyone being startled when the redhead stood up.

 

And Fred, well… he ate just about anything. And he did so while completely stone-faced. _Hyperion’s_ hull might as well be breached, and he’d sit there, chewing on yet another ungodly, stomach-churning combination of food without a care in the world. Really, it was amusing to see the other Marines’ expressions of shock and disbelief.

 

Schadenfreude. Not even once.

 

* * *

 

16th of August

Anchor 11

Reach

 

* * *

 

A veritable swarm of engineers crawled over the corvette, tools flashing brightly as _Hyperion’s_ new armament was installed - the class-4 multicannons were replaced by the M82 ‘Thor’ howitzers. The venerable piece of equipment had been in service with UNSC since 2482. The high-bore cannons fired 280mm rocket-propelled shells capable of delivering a wide variety of payloads included but not limited to HE, AP, HEAT, or APCR. The weapons had proven themselves whenever a particularly stubborn Insurrectionist stronghold needed to be cracked. With a relatively small amount of modifications, the huge cannons had been readily adapted for spaceborne use.

 

The corvette’s laser weapons were also getting an overhaul, allowing the turrets to fire continuous beams, and the class-1 hardpoints were modified to take on class-2 weapons. Of course, that required a degree of hull reworking, and there was only so much of the corvette that could be cut away before the modifications would begin to compromise the ship’s structural integrity. In addition, plans were being drawn up for adding a Mark 2488 Onager MAC to _Hyperion’s_ armament. If the eventual reactor replacement permitted it, the small ship would be packing one hell of a punch for her size.

 

Always on the lookout for cutting-edge equipment, Marcus Stacker had tracked down a number of ground vehicles; leftovers from failed attempts to replace the M12 ‘Warthog’ as UNSC’s primary ground vehicle. With Evangeline’s go-ahead, he’d requisitioned a pair of M577 ‘Kodiak’ APCs, and another two M712 ‘Cougar’ AFVs.

 

The Kodiak was a six-wheeled machine with independent suspension and motors for each wheel. Powered by a hydrogen-fuelled engine like almost every other UNSC vehicle, the Kodiak featured a hermetically-sealable interior, air conditioning, ablative plating, and optional radiation protection, which permitted the Kodiak to make extended forays even into heavily-irradiated territories. The APC could also be refitted for various purposes - the standard model could sacrifice troop capacity by taking a quad mount of 20mm autocannons for purposes of infantry support, a surface-to-air missile pod for adequate AA support, or a heavy gauss cannon for anti-vehicle capabilities. On paper, the concept was promising, and the Kodiak had performed well in trials. In the end, however, the Warthog’s pedigree, reliability, and low cost had still won out.

 

The Cougar had been an attempt to create a dedicated anti-vehicle unit that was fast and lightweight. Armed with the dual-barrelled M68 gauss cannon and optional co-axial automatic grenade launcher or heavy machine gun, the ambitious project was nevertheless hampered by numerous setbacks and complications.

 

Also, the Warthog remained cheaper. This fact rankled the Cougar’s designers to no end, and made AMG Transport Dynamics representatives insufferably smug. Nevertheless, with the four ground vehicles expertly upgraded and refurbished, there wasn’t much elbow room left in _Hyperion’s_ cargo bay.

 

That’s how Stanforth found her, elbows-deep in a Cougar’s gearbox.

 

* * *

 

Stanforth had to suppress a smile as Evangeline saluted - her hand, smeared with oil, left a black smear on her forehead.

 

“Admiral!”

 

“At ease, Commander.” He cast a cursory glance across her rumpled jumpsuit, and the disembowelled vehicle nearby. “Keeping busy, I see?”

 

“That I am, Admiral.” Evangeline nodded. “Best to familiarize myself with our new equipment as fast as I can. Besides, I’ve always liked tinkering with things. Would’ve pimped _Hyperion_ out to the max ages ago if I knew how to jailbreak the OS. Cortana’s been damned helpful in that regard.”

 

_“I’m always happy to help, Commander.”_ The AI’s disembodied voice rang down from the corvette’s ceiling. Evangeline chuckled before returning her attention to Stanforth.

 

“So, yeah, I’m getting the ground team familiar with their new equipment while we have the time for it. Doctor Halsey took cut-offs of armour plating we had lying around after the new hardpoints got installed. I think she’s going to make a couple of new suits of armour for the Spartans.”

 

“Mm.” Stanforth nodded. “Walk with me, Commander.”

 

“Sir.” Evangeline fell into step at the admiral’s side, wiping her hands on a rag.

 

“You’ll be glad to know that I’ve approved your request, Commander. Eight _Parabola_ -class freighters have been commissioned, and should arrive here by the end of this month. Make good use of them.”

 

“I intend to, sir.” Evangeline promised as they passed through _Hyperion’s_ airlock, and into the _Anchor_ station’s hangar.

 

Stanforth hummed in assent again as they walked - more than once, a passing-by crewman would salute him. And her, too. Almost overnight, she had become one of the most popular people for UNSC, right up there with Preston Cole, Catherine Halsey, Terrence Hood, and Master Chief. Barely anyone seemed to be in the spirit of questioning the new technology after its effectiveness was proven to be easily on par with the Covenant. It’d take some getting used to being saluted to by officers that outranked her. But it was all for a good cause, so she smiled and nodded, accepting their praise.

 

“If I may, Admiral, I have another request.” She spoke a moment later.

 

“Go ahead.” Stanforth nodded.

 

“I’d like to post edited versions of _Hyperion’s_ after-action reports on the Waypoint, whenever we return from a mission. You know, photos, videos, a bit of narration. All for the purpose of bolstering morale.”

 

Stanforth considered this for a moment before answering. “Well, I’d have to run this by Paragonsky, first and foremost, but I’ll notify you in advance if there’s any developments. ONI prefer to keep a tight lid on that sort of stuff.”

 

“I understand, sir.” Evangeline nodded as they arrived in one of the observatory decks. Many kilometres away, the rest of the _Anchor_ stations had been arranged in a wall formation, both to simplify logistics, and to get some nice publicity photos. _Leviathan_ was almost back to operational status over at _Anchor 7,_ the last few pieces of armor plating being welded back into their places. Her radiator banks glowed faintly as the new reactor was put through a shakedown. Railguns and lasers restlessly spun in their mountings as the ship’s AI, Curie, performed endurance tests.

 

“Quite the sight, isn’t it?” Stanforth finally spoke after a long moment of silence.

 

“It sure is, sir.” Evangeline agreed.

 

“This is it, Commander. This is where we dig in our heels. This is where mankind lays the foundation for a counter-attack.” The elderly Admiral stated with utter conviction.

 

“I’ll drink to that.”

 

* * *

 

20th of August

 

* * *

 

“Commander?”

 

Evangeline had to suppress a surprised yelp as she heard Linda’s voice behind her. Carefully, she set her tools down, turning to face the Spartan.

 

“Linda. I thought everyone was sleeping.”

 

The redhead said nothing, instead directing her gaze towards the pile of partially-dismantled hardsuits stacked on the table.

 

“What? I couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d at least get something done in the meanwhile.” Evangeline’s tone turned a little defensive. Linda’s response was to turn her eyes to a tray holding numerous glass vials filled with an amber liquid.

 

“Ah.” Evangeline visibly deflated, awkwardly shifting on her chair. “Those are... narcotics. Lethal ones, in fact. A full dose will kill the average human in under thirty seconds. Painlessly. At least, that’s what I was told in EVA training. You’re supposed to inject it if you get spaced from your ship and they don’t come back within an hour. Better than running out of air and suffocating, I guess.”

 

Linda decided, right there and then, that she did not particularly care for the Federation. Chief Mendez had drilled it into each and every Spartan that taking care of the people you worked with was very much important. The fact that Federal officers cared so little for the crews of their ships rankled the sniper something fierce, though she did not let it show.

 

“Top Cat fucking loathed these goddamn things.” Evangeline muttered sourly, rolling one of the vials around in her palm. “And after I spent almost two hours clinging to a chunk of armour plating, trying to work up the courage to press that blasted button after getting spaced, I hated them, too. I wouldn’t wish that kind of crap on anyone.”

 

She dropped the vial back with its brethren, distastefully glaring at the liquid sloshing around in them.

 

“Top Cat spent a small fortune to replace the standard hardsuits with ones that had enhanced IFF beacons and suspended animation modules. It cost him a pretty credit, but _Zenith_ didn’t lose a single crewman to vacuum from that point. The rest of command echelon bitched and moaned about it all the time, that he’s putting a valuable battlecruiser in danger by returning to battlefields. Aside from _Zenith’s_ crew and then-Secretary of State Winters, he had few friends.”

 

With a sigh, Evangeline picked up the tray with the vials, unceremoniously dumping the whole thing down the trash incinerator chute. She felt Linda’s eyes on her the whole time.

 

“I guess what I’m saying is that I’m trying to take a page or two from his books. I’m not going to sit in my comfy chair on the bridge while you guys fight the Covenant. I’m not going to make you do anything I wouldn’t do. And I sure as hell am not going to leave any of you behind unless there’s absolutely no other way. I’m not that naive to think that we won’t take any losses.”

 

“Hope for the best, and prepare for the worst.” Linda finally spoke.

 

“Something like that, yeah.” Evangeline admitted sheepishly. “Besides, I didn’t want to risk ONI getting their hands on those narcotics. I’m taking Paragonsky’s warning to heart. Don’t need some assholes sneaking in and making off with that shit.”

 

Linda had to admit - Evangeline was nothing if not strong in her convictions. Her service under Captain Carmine had left a definite impression on the young woman. Perhaps, a fresh outlook was something that UNSC could benefit from. Or maybe everything would crash and burn, and they all would die horribly. Jury was still out on that one.

 

“Anyways, I think I’ve just about met my weekly quota of angst.” Evangeline announced cheerily, pushing away from the table. “I’m going to watch Ace Ventura. Wanna come with?”


	16. Care for a round of Gwent?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Witcher 3 is a goddamned drug.

The Second Battle of New Venture was, in comparison to the vicious first engagement, over in a flash. Slipspace probes had detected a second Covenant fleet heading for the system. A flotilla of minelayers had seeded the exit vector with HORNET nuclear mines. And two fleets - over eighty refitted frigates and destroyers together - lay in wait, just outside the minefield’s border.

 

And when the Covenant ships arrived - over forty battlecruisers in total - they arrived right in the middle of the minefield. Not even five seconds later, the Covenant ships found their shields burned out, hulls slagged and deformed. Immediately, the ambush fleets pounced, encircling the Covenant fleet in a pincer maneuver. With real-time intel and targeting solutions provided to them by a quartet of prowlers on the loan from ONI, the UNSC ships had wiped out the enemy ships in the opening salvo. The Covenant didn’t even get the chance to retaliate. 

 

The news of this overwhelming victory, broadcast throughout UNSC, had been a massive morale boost. Patriotism had surged greatly, with citizens applying in droves, whether it was military service or factory work. Several influential businessmen had made generous donations to Evangeline, either to curry favour or with actual good intentions.

 

The men and women of New Venture did not drag their feet, either, with everyone working overtime to provide UNSC’s war industry with precious tungsten. And even though there were some among the command echelon who had, albeit correctly, declared that whatever losses the Covenant took could be easily replaced - again, not incorrect - the overall mood was a notable improvement over what it had been at the start of the year.

 

* * *

12th of September

Reach

UNSC Normandy

 

* * *

“Shield charge draining steadily, Commander. We’re at 57% and slowly dropping.” One of the supercarrier’s bridge crew announced -  _ Normandy’s _ bridge was massive when compared to  _ Hyperion’s _ .

 

Situated amidships on top of the warship’s hull, the interior of the bridge was almost as long and wide as an Olympic-sized swimming pool and was, at any given time, crewed by almost fifty men and women. The various stations were in sunken pits lined around a walkway a la Imperial Star Destroyer. Panes of thick armaglass provided an impressive view outside, with double-sided slabs of Titanium-A armour that could seal the bridge in the event of a breach.

 

“Very good.” Evangeline nodded, taking a brief look at the lieutenant’s screens. “Alright, you can put power back into them. Tell  _ Corellian _ to charge our shields whenever they’re ready.”

 

“Aye-aye, ma’am.” The man nodded, typing a short series of commands into his console. The superheavy-class shield generator was a magnificent piece of work - when properly calibrated, it could absorb well in the excess of one-hundred million megajoules of energy, and was capable of negating up to fourty percent of thermal energy produced by the average Covenant plasma torpedo.

 

To the left of  _ Normandy _ lay a refitted  _ Parabola- _ class freighter, the  _ Corellian. _ Much of its hull plating had been removed to allow for the installation of additional reactors and fuel tanks. The rotating sphere section had been removed, and replaced by a wireless energy transmitter, taken from Reach’s vast stores of military supplies. Mounted on a roughly-spherical network of oversized rails, the transmitter could recharge the shields of any friendly ship in range without putting the freighter in undue danger.

 

A barely-visible beam of energy leapt from  _ Corellian’s _ transmitter, connecting with  _ Normandy’s _ shields - the previously-invisible barrier lit up as power flowed into it.

 

“Shields are at 72% percent and climbing!” The lieutenant exclaimed, grinning as he turned to face his superiors.

 

“Good man.” She nodded approvingly in return before turning towards Admiral Jack Morrison. 

 

Hailing from Indiana, Earth, the man’s family had a long and storied service in the American military, with two Morrisons having served in the 3rd Armored Division of US Army during the Gulf War. This particular Morrison, having graduated from Montressor OCS at the top of his class, was given the rank of Lieutenant, Junior Grade and put in command of a corvette; just as the Human-Covenant war began. He served with distinction, providing AA defense for bigger ships, though some among the brass bent his ear over his aggressive, daring tactics.

 

Nonetheless, many promotions and awards were bestowed upon him as the war dragged on. He commandeered frigates, destroyers, cruisers, carriers - if it was built in a UNSC shipyard, he knew how to get the most out of it. He did not mince words or wax poetic, but his gruff, brusque manner belied genuine concern for the people in his fleet. Some did not like him, but everyone respected the man for his accomplishments. Evangeline had taken an immediate liking to Morrison, appreciating his blunt and straightforward manner.

 

“Well, I think that’s that, Admiral. Once we have the freighter refit standardized, I’ll make sure you receive enough of them to cover your fleet.”

 

“I’ll take good care of them.” Morrison nodded simply.

 

“No doubt.”

 

* * *

19th of September

UNSC Hyperion

 

* * *

“It’s not Christmas yet, but I come bearing gifts all the same!” Evangeline announced excitedly, popping the lid off of a gun crate. She reached inside, pulling out a pair of rifles. “Behold, laser rifles! Fresh off the assembly line, to boot. And as luck would have it, we’re getting the first batch.” With a grunt, she tossed one to Johnson, who deftly caught it and gave the weapon a once-over.

 

“Well, it’s a fair bit lighter than what I’m used to. Looks sturdy enough. What can it do?”

 

“In clear weather, the range is about 700 metres, give or take. Less if it’s foggy, snowing or raining, because the beams dissipate and stuff. In comparison to an MA5B, it’s quieter, more powerful and accurate. With next to no moving parts, the internals wear out much slower, too, even if it needs to be cleaned regularly. The downside is that it’s easy to track the laser beam back to its source, and the power cells are pretty damn heavy - they constitute a third of the gun’s weight when plugged in. Gotta make your shots count, you know?”

 

Everyone murmured in agreement.

 

“Well, go ahead and make yourselves familiar with it. I’ll see about setting up a shooting practice later. For now, though, we have a mission, so listen up.” With a soft grunt, she hopped on top of the Kodiak creatively named  _ Doof Wagon. _ “As a result on really dedicated data mining effort on ONI’s behalf, they have pulled another important location from the recovered Covenant computers. Cortana?”

 

On cue, the hangar bay’s holo-emitters sprung into life, displaying a wintry planet. “The Covenant have established a fuel refinery on a barely-habitable planet in what used to be UNSC territory. There’s an abundance of ice there, perfect for deuterium extraction. From what I can gather, this planet supplies fuel to several fleets. If we can cut off their supply, it’ll put additional strain on other refineries.”

 

Bisenti raised an arm.

 

“Go ahead, marine.” She nodded to him.

 

“With respect, Commander, it feels like we should be taking the fight to the Covenant, instead of just sneaking around behind their back.”

 

“I can understand why you’d feel like that, Bisenti.” Evangeline nodded. “In short term, what we do won’t amount to much, that is true. But in the long term, the effects will be much more visible. Consider it like a knife fight - a cut or two won’t slow you down, but if you get nicked enough times, even the strongest man will eventually feel it. Admiral Stanforth trusts us to be that knife. Hell, the entirety of UNSC does. So we keep cutting the Covenant where it hurts. Until they’re dead, or we are.”

 

“Gonna need more than one knife, I feel.” Stacker added.

 

“That might just be what we need, Sergeant, but refitting the fleets is at the top of the list, for the time being. We need to make good use of what time we have bought with our actions. The more ships we can get overhauled, the better are the odds for the Navy.”

 

“No argument there, Commander.” Stacker agreed. “Even with Admiral Cole kicking seven shades of shit out of the Covies, pardon my French, we were taking a beating back in the day.”

 

“And we’ll put a stop to that. On that you have my word. Now, who wants to go and throw another wrench in the Covenant’s works?” Her words were met with cheering and she grinned. “That’s what I like to hear. Stow your gear, we’re departing in ten minutes.”

 

* * *

 

Kharasta system had been among the first to fall to the Covenant after the war began. While initially passed over by their fleets, a destroyer squadron had eventually glassed Kharasta Prime, the system’s first colony, before torching the fledgling settlement on Kharasta II. Not much remained in Kharasta save for clusters of orbital debris, where fleeing civilian ships had been chased down. Everyone had given a moment of solemn silence in respect as  _ Hyperion _ flew past the charred planet.

 

The mood was not what one could call buoyant as the corvette made its final approach to the ice-covered planet on the system’s edge. While outside the Goldilocks zone, the planet still was habitable, if barely. Most of its fauna and flora was in the ice-covered oceans, relying on deepwater thermal vents to survive. While a biological curiosity, this hadn’t warranted more than a few expeditions, and the aptly named Norilsk was largely forgotten.

 

Until now, that is. Even from orbit, it was obvious the Covenant had quite the operation going on. The energy signature of a huge processing plant was blatantly obvious - just another example of Covenant arrogance. There were no warships anywhere to be seen, though more than one fuel tanker could be seen on the sensors, zipping to and fro the system’s edge on sublight engines.

 

“Cortana, DERVISH.” Evangeline ordered curtly. While the average Covenant sensor array was fine-tuned for slipspace signatures, it was ill-suited to detect the bent space-time bubble of a ship in supercruise. Still, it would not be wise to tempt fate.

 

“Aye-aye, Commander. DERVISH operational.” The AI reported a second later. “If we happen to draw attention, they’ll only see anomalous cosmic rays. Of course, if we make a beeline for the processing plant, they’ll know something’s up.”

 

“So we land a ways off, and make a surface infiltration. It’ll take longer, but we stand a better chance at remaining undetected.” Evangeline decided. “Shame we couldn’t have that Onager slapped on top as is, though. Could’ve rolled up to that installation, all like ‘what up, my ship’s got a reasonably-sized main weapon.’ And kaboom, I shove a tungsten slug right down their throats.”

 

* * *

_ Gigahorse _ was the first to roll out from  _ Hyperion’s _ cargo bay, the Kodiak’s chain-wrapped wheels kicking up plumes of wet snow.  _ Doof Wagon, Razor Cola _ and  _ War Rig _ followed not long after.

 

“Alright - Miller, Sawyer, make yourselves scarce. Get  _ Hyperion _ stowed away somewhere discreet. Cortana, keep your eyes and ears open.” Evangeline ordered from the driver’s seat of  _ Gigahorse. _ The Kodiak’s quad-barreled turret whirred softly as Jenkins made himself comfortable in the gunner’s seat. The APCs were more than a little cramped - the Cougars, less so. Each of the AFVs held only four people - a driver, a gunner, a commander, and a radio operator. The bulk of their ground team was squished inside the Kodiaks, chatting among themselves quietly. Some were even making small talk with the Spartans, even if it was a little stilted and awkward.

 

She spared a look towards the Kodiak’s dashboard - due to Norilsk’s infamously hazardous weather, they’d been forced to land almost two-hundred kilometres from the processing plant. Not a vast distance to cover under normal circumstances, but everyone could agree that the circumstances were anything but, with constant blizzards rampaging across the planet.

 

_ “Razor Cola, _ take point. We’ve got a course plotted, so let’s try to stick as close to it as possible.”

 

_ “Aye-aye, Commander.” _ Stacker replied, gunning the Cougar’s throttle. She followed suit, with  _ War Rig  _ and  _ Doof Wagon _ bringing up the rear.

 

* * *

It was almost five hours later that the bleak sky began to darken. The night would soon be upon them, and with it, a snowstorm. An unanimous decision had been reached to find shelter to avoid the worst of it. Sadly, the terrain was not cooperating with them - there wasn’t a single cave in sight, and the steadily-worsening weather interfered with the scanners. The blizzard was almost at full strength by the time the convoy came across a rock outcropping, behind which they took cover.

 

“Well, I think this is as far as we’re going to get today.” Evangeline remarked, turning  _ Gigahorse’s _ headlights off. The rest of their vehicles pulled up around them, their forms barely visible. “Not much we can do except wait it out.”

 

“Commander, permission to establish perimeter watch?” John spoke from behind her.

 

“In this weather?” Evangeline raised an eyebrow, turning about to face the Spartan. “I mean, I doubt the Covenant have anyone patrolling out this far, but let’s not tempt fate. Take four others with you, one hour shifts.”

 

“Understood, Commander.” John nodded before gesturing for Fred and three other Marines to follow.

 

“Everyone else, try to get some sleep.”

 

* * *

There was a lot of grumbling as morning dawned, Marines stretching and turning as they were roused from sleep.

 

“Morning, Commander.” Johnson yawned widely, and Evangeline nodded in return, poring over a datapad. “No bad news, I hope?”

 

“Nah.” She shook her head.  _ “Hyperion  _ went back to Reach for updates during nighttime. They’ve just about finished standardizing the refit procedures. Takes a little over four days to refit a frigate at this point.”

 

“That fast, huh?” The sergeant let out an impressed whistle.

 

“Well, it’s the basic refit - engines, radiators, reactor, FSD, and shields. Anything fancier is going to take time. Though that’s not to say I don’t have anything fancy planned for the future.”

 

“I’m looking forward to it, Commander.”

 

“Mm.” She nodded in agreement. “Sergeant, would you mind waking the others up? Ideally, we should be ready to go in under an hour. It’s still dark outside, and I’d like to take advantage of that.”

 

“Can do, ma’am.” Johnson nodded, slipping his helmet on before stepping outside - the gust of frigid air was more than enough to wake the the APC’s more stubborn sleepers. Soon enough the Marines were sitting upright, scarfing down MREs.

 

_ “Commander.” _ The radio crackled, and she reached over to respond.

 

“Lay it on me, Chief. How’re things looking out there?”

 

_ “All clear.”  _ Came his curt reply.

 

“Alright, get your asses back here. Get some grub, and we’ll set out before soon.”

 

_ “Understood, Commander.” _

 

* * *

“Well, there it is.” Evangeline muttered, sprawled on her stomach on top of a hill, holding binoculars to her face - the Covenant refinery sprawled across the valley several kilometres ahead.

 

Great plumes of steam were rising from snow-caked funnels, and even at this distance, the muffled thrum of reactors could be heard. A set of huge pipes could be seen snaking across the terrain, dipping into the ocean several hundred metres to the side. No doubt those were drawing water for reactor cooling.

 

“How do you want to do this, Commander?” Linda spoke, kneeling in the snow to the right. She too, was scoping out the place with her sniper rifle, marking down potential hiding spots for Covenant snipers, and good sniping positions for herself.

 

“Smash and burn, I think. We bust down the front door, find a terminal to hack. Cortana then can find out the fastest way to turn this place in a pile of molten slag. Once that’s done, we hightail it back into the wastes, where  _ Hyperion  _ picks us up.” Evangeline got up, turning to grin at the Spartan. “And last but not least, we all fly back to Reach, high-fiving each other while slamming back cans of Red Bull.”

 

Linda’s silent stare quickly put an end to that line of thought.

 

“...Nevermind.”

 

* * *

“Cortana, do you read me?” Evangeline muttered.

 

_ “Loud and clear, Commander.” _

 

“Marking targets for artillery fire. Bring down the thunder.”

 

“Coordinates received. Firing for effect.”

 

Almost fourty kilometres away,  _ Hyperion  _ gently landed in a shallow valley as Cortana took aim. Behind the corvette’s bridge, the two awe-inspiring artillery pieces clunked dully as the AI loaded them. With a pair of ear-splitting blasts, the howitzers fired, and two massive shells screamed skywards, trailing fire. She compensated for recoil, and fired again. With Norilsk’s temperamental weather muffling the artillery fire, none of the Covenant inside the fuel refinery even heard anything. Some paused, hearing the faintest of dull thumps, but thought nothing of it.

 

Until two rocket-propelled, AI-guided shells came wailing from the sky, obliterating a wall segment, and everything within thirty metres. The next two shots decapitated the comms array. The last six shells hit various targets of opportunity, from parked Ghosts to watchtowers.

 

“Alright, go, go, go! Don’t stop for nothing!” Evangeline ordered, flooring  _ Gigahorse’s  _ throttle. With a bone-jarring jolt, the Kodiak tore forward, leaving the cover of a snowdrift. The other three vehicles followed suit.  _ Razor Cola  _ and  _ War Rig _ pulled ahead, spraying precision bursts of gauss cannon fire. Jenkins did the same, cutting down a gaggle of hapless Grunts with a stream of autocannon fire. Well, turned into mincemeat was more appropriate - the squat aliens’ armour offered no protection against the time-tested 20mm shells. Several lucky shots set off the Grunts’ methane tanks, detonating with a fierce flash.

 

A quartet of Elites rushed outside, but were almost instantly run over by  _ Doof Wagon,  _ which was the first to enter the refinery’s perimeter. The hefty nanotube tires left slick purple trails as the APC screeched to a halt. The other three vehicles quickly followed, rolling over Covenant corpses.

 

“Lainsfield, driver’s seat!” Evangeline barked as she undid the safety harness. The Kodiak’s entry hatch slid open as the ground team disembarked. “Keep the convoy together, go around shooting the place up. We need you to keep the heat off of us. Cortana, get  _ Hyperion  _ up and flying. Shoot down anything that tries to leave this place. Everyone else, form up.”

 

The four six-wheelers roared to life, performing a J-turn and sped off, guns blazing.

 

“Ha, look at ‘em go.” She quipped before turning to face her crew. “Right, I daresay it’s time to rock ‘n’ roll.”

 

* * *

Cortana had to admit that there certainly something thrilling about flooring the boost - the result was much like that of an afterburner in jet engines. With a lively rumble,  _ Hyperion  _ came about, and she wasted no time in aligning the crosshairs over the Covenant fuel tanker which was trying to escape. It had lain undetected before tearing free from its moorings, trying its best to reach orbit. However, it was weighed down by the heavy length of a fuel line. With the fuel line preventing the tanker’s shields from activating, it had been a trivial effort to put a pair of shells into the ship’s gut. A series of explosions rippled through its hull, and the tanker ceased its ponderous ascent as gravity reasserted its will.

 

_ “Hyperion, _ one. Covenant, zero.” She smugly announced as she scoured the area for more targets. Sure enough, a flight of Banshees threw themselves at her. She launched the Condors in return, making another high-energy burn to reduce  _ Hyperion’s  _ profile.

 

“Let’s dance.”

 

* * *

The ground team’s advance was left largely unmolested as they proceeded through the facility - with their armoured vehicles raising Cain outside, and Cortana grappling with Covenant fliers for aerial superiority, all but a few of their soldiers had rushed outside. The ones they came across posed no challenge, and died sudden, quiet deaths.

 

“Alright, I think this’ll do.” Evangeline announced quietly as they entered a deuterium storage facility. Numerous huge tanks filled the room, with thick pipes connecting them to another, bigger pipe. And most importantly, an important-looking terminal was present.

 

“Perimeter, please.” She ordered, rushing over to the terminal. It didn’t take long to gain access to its systems. “Let’s see, let’s see… Ah, shit. Looks like there’s a change of plans.”

 

“What do you mean, Commander?” Master Chief turned to look at her.

 

“This place isn’t powered by a reactor. Nothing to send into a meltdown. If I’m reading this data right, they’re using geothermal energy instead.”

 

“Last time I checked, we weren’t exactly capable of deciphering the Covenant chickenscratch.” Johnson piped up.

 

“Well, you’re not wrong. But there’s topographic data and ground survey reports. The Covenant built this place on top of a very active thermal vent.” Evangeline typed into her wristpad, and a hologram flashed into existence above her hand. “See? They draw water from the sea, desalinate it, turn it into steam with heat from the vent, and use that to spin the turbines. Clean, near-unlimited power.”

 

“So how do we shut this place down?”

 

“We can’t just sabotage the turbines - no doubt the Covenant have plenty of spare parts on hand, and it’d take too long to get to all the complexes.” She muttered thoughtfully before her eyes widened in realisation. “But we could trigger an eruption with a big enough explosion.”

 

“How, Commander? We only got hand grenades on us.”

 

“With a bunch of red barrels, or the Covenant equivalent thereof. Cortana, you there?”

 

_ “How can I help you, Commander?” _

 

“We’re trying to outdo the Krakatoa here. Give us a hand?”

 

The AI responded almost immediately. “There are a number of plasma batteries around the place. I am marking the location of the primary storehouse and hovercarts on your map.”

 

“Understood. Let’s get cracking.”

 

* * *

Jenkins hollered with glee as a Covenant squad disintegrated under a stream of autocannon fire.

 

“That one’s for Mack!” He swung the turret around, and let loose once more, cutting down a Jackal phalanx. Lainsfield swore crudely, jinking around an overturned Ghost, and Jenkins wasted no time drawing a bead on the Grunts cowering behind the wreckage. “That one’s for Harvest!” The autocannons chattered sharply before he found a new target. The turret’s motors whined as he aimed at a pile of plasma batteries, left forgotten because of the surprise attack. “And that one’s just because I can!”

 

Above them,  _ Hyperion _ roared past, chased by three Banshees, their plasma cannons splashing ineffectively against the corvette’s shields. The F-63 Condors followed in their wake, the AI-piloted fighters capable of pulling moves that would cause even the most skilled pilots to black out. Lasers flashed, impacting against the fragile, unshielded Banshees, and the Covenant fliers gracelessly tumbled to ground.

 

The explosions were downright beautiful, he thought to himself.

 

* * *

_ “All clear, Commander.”  _ Came the terse comm from Chief. Evangeline gestured to the others, and they resumed pushing the hovercarts down the service tunnel.

 

“No slackin’ off, Marines!” Johnson barked. “Back in my day, we’d have this payload delivered already!”

 

“In snow, uphill both ways?” Evangeline suggested jokingly.

 

“Damn right, Commander!” The sergeant grinned widely, and she chuckled louder.

 

_ “Sounds like you’re having fun back there, Commander.” _ Kelly quipped over the radio.

 

“Come on, this planet’s going to be wallowing in its own infernal crucible once we’re done. And that’s the good outcome. Might as well crack jokes before we’re jumping across lava rivers.”

 

_ “Fair enough.” _

 

The heavily-laden hovercarts thrummed softly under their cargo. There were enough plasma batteries in the three carts to do some serious damage.

 

“I have a question, Commander.” Bisenti spoke up a moment later.

 

“What’s your question, marine?”

 

“How exactly are we going to blow this place up? Just dump the batteries into the vent?”

 

“Unfortunately, we can’t just Mount Doom this bitch and call it a day.” Evangeline shook her head before consulting her HUD to ensure they were still on track. “However, there’s no doubt this place has some significant tectonic activity. There’s bound to be weak spots and faults we can exploit. Trust me, we’ll get this done.”

 

“Aye-aye, Commander.” Bisenti nodded enthusiastically.

 

* * *

 

“Damn, that’s funky.” Evangeline muttered as she stared down the cavernous shaft.

 

No one else really disagreed with that statement, for the Covenant’s method of harnessing the planet’s geothermal power was indeed funky - a series of forcefield generators encircled the thermal vent’s edge, funnelling hundreds of cubic metres of compressed, superheated air into a series of reinforced vents above on the ceiling. A set of whirring fans, surrounded by more generators, were drawing cold air from outside the facility.

 

“I’m getting the feeling the Covenant don’t much use geothermal power.” She mused to herself. “This is nothing like you’d see in Iceland, for example. Anyways. Cortana?”

 

_ “Go ahead, Commander.” _

 

“Do you have any ideas?”

 

_ “Well, we could shut down the air intakes and outlets. If it gets hot and dense enough, air stops being air and starts being physics. The problem is that it would likely take too long. However, there is another way.” _

 

“Go on.”

 

_ “There’s a primary service hatch, equipped with a gravity lift for heavy-duty maintenance equipment. If you get that open, you could get those plasma batteries close enough to the water conduits to breach them. If my calculations are correct - and they always are - there’s going to be enough steam to pop this place like a champagne bottle cork.” _

 

“Sounds good, but how exactly are we going to reach that hatch? I can see it, but none of us can fly.”

 

_ “You’ll have to double back to an access ladder. It will take you into a crawlspace that the Engineers use to move about. Adding the waypoint on your HUD.” _

 

“Alright.” She nodded before turning to face the others. “Say, could this lady have some of you fine gentlemen an escort to her destination?” She did an exaggerated flourish, grinning widely.

 

“I’d be right happy to, my lady.” Johnson chuckled gregariously, doing a little bow. “Please, follow me. I shall see you delivered safely to your objective.”

 

Evangeline laughed in return before they set off.

 

“Those two ain’t right.” O’Brien shook his head once they were out of hearing range. With nothing else to do, they set up a perimeter around their volatile cargo.

 

* * *

“Cortana, you said that the crawlspaces are used by the Engineers?” Evangeline asked as she stared up at the very, very long service ladder.

 

_ “That’s right, Commander.” _

 

“Could you possibly contact them and arrange for  _ Hyperion _ to pick them up? It’d be a waste to let them die with the rest of the Covenant when this place blows.”

 

_ “Can do, Commander.”  _ The comm line cut off and she rubbed her hands together before grasping the rungs. As she began the long trek upwards, a tune sprung to her mind, unbidden.

 

_ What a thrill _

_ With darkness and silence through the night _

 

* * *

 

“I’m still… in a dream…” Evangeline wheezed as she collapsed on the floor, feebly rubbing her stinging sides. “Snake Eater…” She let loose one last wheeze before falling silent. Climbing wasn’t her strongest suit. That would have to be remedied. Once her breath returned to her, she pulled herself upright. The marker on the HUD still remained active, and she set off at a slow jog, rifle held at ready. With every step she took, she could hear the dull roar of water getting louder and louder. It wasn’t long before she could feel it through the floor, too.

 

“That must be it.” She muttered to herself as she rounded a corner, greeted by the sight of the sturdy service hatch built into the floor, big enough to fly a Cobra through. The water pipes were easily twice as big, surrounded by structural integrity field generators thrumming loudly enough to make her teeth buzz in sympathy. The pressure those pipes were experiencing must’ve been phenomenal.

 

“Alright, be ready. Gravity lift will be coming online in a moment.” She commed her crew, kneeling down by a terminal. ‘Hackerman’ was plucked from her belt and stuck to the terminal’s interface. A cheesy synthesizer tune emanated from the spoofer as it activated. Not even ten seconds passed before the service hatch began to open, the gravity lift glowing as it was brought online.

 

_ “Moving the payload into the lift, Commander.” _ John responded curtly, and she was left to twiddle her thumbs for the better part of a minute as she waited. The carts were heavily laden, after all, and their cargo was fragile. The Spartans had their hands full trying to keep them upright.

 

“Never doing that again.” Johnson announced bemusedly as he hopped out from the lift. “That’s gonna be the last time I entrust my life to Covvie tech.”

 

“Less talking, more hauling.” Evangeline stood up. “Let’s get those damn things in place. Cortana, plot us a route out of here, be ready to pick us up. Tell the diversion team to get their asses over to LZ.”

 

_ “Done and dusted, Commander.” _

 

In short order, the plasma batteries were stacked around the generators responsible for keeping the pipes from splitting apart.

 

“Linda, you’re the best shot, so you’ll have the honor of lighting the fuse.” Evangeline spoke as they retreated to a safe distance.

 

“Understood, Commander.” The supersoldier nodded, shouldering her sniper rifle. It took her no time to line up the shot and send a bullet downrange. With a brilliant flash of light, the plasma batteries detonated in a chain reaction, each explosion setting off another battery. The explosions hadn’t even died off when the water pipes emitted an ominous creak. Already, they were starting to buckle, and no time was wasted hauling ass.

 

* * *

 

Evangeline let out a little yelp as the floor shook violently, and stumbled to stay upright.

 

“Jesus Christ! What was that?” One of the marines exclaimed.

 

_ “That was several thousand cubic metres of water collapsing the forcefields over the thermal vent. There’s a lot of steam, and not a lot of places for it to go. You should hurry.” _ Cortana announced over the radio.

 

“Don’t have to tell us that twice.” Johnson nodded. “Run like it’s going out of style, Marines!”

 

Everyone picked their pace up after that. As usual, Blue Team led the way, ensuring that nothing stood in their path. Luckily, most of the Covenant garrison were chasing their ground vehicles or were strafed by  _ Hyperion. _

 

The ground shook again, harder this time as they made it outside. Not that outside was any more appealing - bloody tire marks and crumpled corpses littered much of the ground, and a great deal of Covenant materiel was shot beyond recognition, or had just plain stopped existing, courtesy of  _ Hyperion’s _ cannons.

 

“We’re outside, Cortana. Double-timing it to LZ.”

 

_ “Understood, Commander. Diversion team is already waiting there with our new friends. I’ll be making one last attack run on the Covenant forces before joining you.” _ Sure enough,  _ Hyperion  _ roared above them, lasers flashing ceaselessly. Cortana really wasn’t making it easy on the Covenant.

 

* * *

_ “Commander, glad you could join us!” _ Mendoza cheerily exclaimed over the radio.  _ “We’re about to run out of ammo, and I think we speak for all of us when I say we can’t get off this frozen rock too soon.” _

 

“No argument there, Private.” No sooner had the words left Evangeline’s lips when another tremor shook the ground. “How about it, Cortana? Ready to pick us up?”

 

_ “No doubt about it, Commander.” _ As if on cue,  _ Hyperion _ roared around a tower, thrusters spewing white-hot plasma. The AI had become a master pilot, using the corvette’s finely-tuned engines to their full potential as she quickly landed the agile warship.

 

The cargo platform quickly descended, hitting the permafrost with a dull thud. By some unseen command the Engineers, which had been huddled behind the four vehicles, obediently floated to safety. The Spartans and Marines were next, followed by the Cougars and Kodiaks that were pockmarked by a great deal of plasma shots in their mission to keep the Covenant attention away from the infiltrators.

 

John noted with a slight degree of amusement that their CO was the last to board the platform. Puzzling though her mannerisms could sometimes be, Evangeline Graves was shaping up to be more than a merely decent leader.

 

Before the cargo platform was fully retracted, they could see a section of the refinery buckle and shake as its foundations were consumed by tons upon tons of molten rock. More than one Marine let out a cheer at the sight.

 

“Mission complete. Take us home, Cortana.”


	17. That one chapter where fuck-all happens

22nd of October

Reach

FLEETCOM HQ

 

* * *

 

“Enter.” Stanforth looked up as he heard the knocking on the door of his office. A second later, the door swung open as Commander Graves entered, saluting smartly.

 

“Sir. You wanted to see me?”

 

“Yes. Take a seat, Commander.” He nodded to the vacant chair, waiting until she was seated before continuing. “HIGHCOM is very impressed, Commander. The refit is proceeding on schedule, and no ships have reported any malfunctions so far. On top of that, you’ve secured important assets from the Covenant, sabotaged their war machine, and stopped them from glassing an important planet, twice.”

 

“I’m just glad to be of help, Sir.” Stanforth let slip a slight smile at that.

 

“In any case, HIGHCOM is convinced that Task Force Daedalus has more than earned additional funding. They’ve given the go-ahead to build more _Hyperion-_ class corvettes.”

 

“Sir?” Evangeline leaned forward, her tone that of curiosity. Stanforth merely nodded in return.

 

“You heard me right, Commander. Your command is about to get bigger.” The admiral stood up. “The higher-ups feel that a new _modus operandi_ is what we need to keep the Covenant second-guessing every move they attempt to make into our territories. With the time thus bought, the navy can regain their breath while we fortify our lynchpin systems and overhaul our ships. A tall order for a single corvette and her crew, but with more ships that have your kind of mobility, we can keep the Covenant chasing after shadows as we dig in.”

 

“Permission to speak freely, Sir?”

 

“Granted.” Stanforth nodded.

 

“I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of a responsibility. Commanding one ship is one thing, commanding several more is another thing entirely.”

 

“Perfectly understandable concerns, Commander. Which is why you’ll be granted access to all we know about Covenant military tactics. Those new ships won’t be ready for some time, so I want you to study as much as you can - you’ve been lucky to perform as successfully as you have so far, but that luck won’t last forever. Best to familiarize yourself with the foe as best as you can.”

 

“Understood, Sir.” Evangeline nodded in return. “I do have a question, though.”

 

“Go ahead.”

 

“Is the crew composition on the other ships to be the same as mine? I know that Spartans are a pretty big deal and can’t be called upon whenever it strikes my fancy. But Blue Team’s been indispensable to our victories.”

 

“NAVSPECWAR were glad to pitch in, actually. You’ve got the range and mobility that suits their needs just fine. Long as nothing urgent comes up, the Spartans will remain assigned to your task force indefinitely.”

 

“I’m glad to hear that, Sir. Is there anything else?”

 

“Not at the moment, no.” Stanforth shook his head. “Though you’ll want to bring yourself up to speed with the war. Those new ships won’t be ready for a while, so it’d be best to make good use of that time.”

 

“Of course, Sir.”

 

* * *

 

Just as Stanforth had said, the UNSC had gathered a great deal of information throughout the war, whether it be after-action reports or covert observations by ONI operatives. To read the documents in their entirety, she would easily need at least over a month. Luckily, she had a way to avoid boring herself to death.

 

“Time dilation? I’ve never heard of such a thing before.” Cortana cocked an eyebrow, curiosity clearly visible on the AI’s features. “Then again, your technology is literal centuries ahead of UNSC’s.”

 

“It’s pretty commonplace, in fact.” Evangeline explained off-handedly as she spun around in her seat. “Need to cram for finals? Time dilation. Need to handle several customers at once? Time dilation. Planning on buying a bigger ship and want to make sure you’re not going to make a fool of yourself the first time you fly it? You bet it’s a time-dilated simulation.”

 

“And how safe is it, exactly?”

 

“Harmless, if you don’t forget to set constant reminders of real-time passage. But if you’re on mood-altering medicine or in an unsound state of mind, it’s not going to be a pleasant experience. The average brain can cope with a time dilation ratio of one-to-ten without any lasting consequences.” Evangeline paused before continuing. “But with high-end augmentations, well… you get the point. When I got my Pilots Federation certificate, they set me up with a modest time dilation augmentation. Nothing especially flashy, but if I’m relaxed and calm, I can maintain a solid one-to-twenty-nine ratio for a real-time period of about seven hours.”

 

“I can detect no implants in your body, of any size or activity. How’s that work?”

 

“It’s not a very obvious augmentation. There’s no cybernetics or implants involved. Just some subtle adjustments to your nervous system and cerebral chemistry. If you don’t know what you’re looking for, you’ll not find any signs of it. High-end augmentations, however, do require implants and such to ensure your brain doesn’t shit itself. Trying to force a higher ratio when you’re really not in the shape for it can lead to a variety of wondrous side-effects like Parkinson’s, dementia, cranial hemorrhage, loss of hearing or sight, impaired hand-eye coordination... or your brain just straight up dies and you become a vegetable.”

 

“Ouch.” Cortana winced sympathetically.

 

“Mhm.” Evangeline hummed in agreement. “Anyway, enough about that. Let’s get working.”

 

* * *

 

“It’ll need to be bigger.” Cortana finally announced, spinning the hologram around on top of her hand.

 

“How much bigger are we talking here?” Evangeline ventured cautiously.

 

“Big enough that it can qualify as a heavy corvette. It certainly won’t be as spry as _Hyperion.”_

 

“Alright. Lay it on me.”

 

“I think we can both agree that _Hyperion_ is a fine ship. But the way things stand now, it’s lacking in both internal space and firepower. We’ve been managing fine so far, but to carry out our missions to the fullest, we’ll need things like a dedicated vehicle bay, medbay, cargo hold, crew quarters, and so on and so forth. None of that can be achieved in a compact spaceframe such as this, not without some intensive remodelling.”

 

“I hear ya, Cortana.” Evangeline nodded agreeingly. “So I guess we’ll add another corvette to the build list. Much as I’d hate to see _Hyperion_ shelved, war doesn’t much care for sentiment of that sort. Anyways - what have you got in mind?”

 

“Like I said, dedicated shipboard facilities. Tougher shields, a more powerful reactor, and definitely a MAC of some sort. Of course, we’ll lose some jump range and agility, but if I’m right - and I’m always right - the payoff will be more than worth it.”

 

“I assume you’ve already shortlisted potential ship designers?”

 

“Correct, Commander.” Cortana nodded gleefully. “Specifically, me.”

 

“That so.” Evangeline crossed her arms, her expression equal parts sceptical and curious.

 

“I have hours upon hours of flight data logged, both in sub-light and supercruise. Furthermore, _Hyperion’s_ VR facilities are state-of-the-art, permitting me to run tests without ever needing to spend a single credit on hull mockups and such. Give me one week, and I’ll have the blueprints ready to go.”

 

“Alright. If you’re sure you can deliver on that promise.”

 

“Don’t underestimate the capabilities of a smart AI, Commander.” Cortana announced cockily. She was born from the brain of Catherine Halsey. No challenge was too daunting for her.

 

* * *

 

29th of October

 

* * *

 

True to her word, Cortana had announced that her work was completed. And what a job she’d done, too. Almost half as long as the _Stalwart-_ class light frigate, it topped out at a respectable 213 metres from bow to aft. Its width had increased to 105 metres, while at its tallest, the ship reached a height of 45 metres, sans landing gear. Cortana had done her best to stay true to _Hyperion’s_ shape, which allowed for a maximum amount of weapons to be kept on a target, while keeping itself as small a target as possible.

 

While Cortana had kept the internal layout more or less the same, she had nonetheless added a great deal - as promised, she had implemented a proper vehicle bay, with storage for tools and spare parts for their ground vehicles. The medics, too, would approve of a well-equipped medical quarters, supplied with modern medical instruments such as cloning tanks to ensure that even heavily-wounded crew would not be lost. An armory and bigger cargo bay would permit the ship to operate far from UNSC space for months, if needed. More internal space also meant more room for the crew, with a compact but functional kitchen-slash-mess hall, and a greater number of sleeping quarters, which would house the increased crew complement more comfortably. One of the bigger additions, however, were the five drop pods incorporated at the bottom of the hull. Without need for the loading mechanisms seen on the likes of cruisers or carriers, the corvette could deliver its Spartan team to targets otherwise unreachable.

 

But it was on the outside that the change was most noticeable. Cortana had incorporated a MAC into the design - a Mark 2488 Onager, adapted for spaceborne use. With the addition of beam lasers that were capable of crippling the likes of Seraphs with little trouble, and a heavy-duty shield generator putting up a barrier of over twelve thousand megajoules, the ship had a great deal of fight in her. A brand new reactor, with an output of over five times that of _Hyperion’s_ original power plant, provided plenty of electricity to the myriad of systems, both new and old. Of course, with a bigger reactor output came stronger engines, partially negating the greatly increased mass. The greatest drawback, however, was the reduction of jump range - while it could still outrun any other ship UNSC fielded, missions far beyond their territory would take a bit longer to accomplish.

 

“Wow. Consider me impressed. You delivered upon your promise and then some.” Evangeline let out a low whistle and turned to look at Cortana, who was positively glowing with glee.

 

“I did tell you to not underestimate me, did I not?” Cortana grinned wide, clearly enjoying the praise.

 

“That you did. Alright, send it to Stanforth for review. Let me know when we’ve got a response.”

 

“Of course, Commander.”

 

* * *

 

“Trying to sneak up on a Spartan, Commander?” Linda’s voice stopped the other woman in her tracks.

 

“That’s not what I was doing, Linda. Just didn’t want to interrupt your meditation, is all.”

 

“I’m sure you weren’t, Commander.” The Spartan gave a rare smile.

 

“Funny, Linda. You’re funny.” Evangeline mock-pouted as the redhead turned her words against her.

 

“So I’m told.” Linda unfolded from her cross-legged position on the floor. “I did not think anyone else was awake at this hour.”

 

“I can’t run the sims twenty-four-seven. Gotta take a break now and then.” Evangeline shrugged, wandering over to the food printer. “Besides, our schedule is pretty empty for the foreseeable future, which lets me work on some side projects.”

 

“Side projects?”

 

“Mm.” Evangeline nodded as the food printer hummed. “Most of them aren’t going to be more than purely theoretical, but seeing all those slipspace drives being shipped off for storage got me thinking - why not use them?”

 

“I’m not sure I follow.”

 

“As weapons. When you try to make a jump with a malfunctioning slipspace drive, it just takes a big damn bite out of the ship, right? So take a drive, stick it in a missile, activate it when it’s near the target and boom, no Covenant ship is going to be too tough to crack. And once they start seeing their heavy hitters gutted like that, you can bet they’ll be much more hesitant about starting shit.”

 

“Is it viable?”

 

“Cortana’s crunching numbers as we speak, but she says it’ll work. It’s basically a Shiva missile, but with a different payload. If need be, you can just stick it inside a remote-piloted Longsword or what-have-you, just like a Shiva.” The food printer let out a ding and Evangeline scooped up the plastic container the machine spat out. “Also, there’s the energy projectors that were salvaged from those carriers. None are operational, but I’m optimistic that enough pieces can be recovered to construct a single working projector. Figure out how it works, reverse-engineer it, and it’ll give the navy some serious staying power.”

 

“An ambitious idea, Commander.”

 

“And that’s exactly why it’ll be gathering dust until it’s actually needed. The refit is more important, to get the standing fleets overhauled. Probably won’t do the post-war economy any favours, but at least people will be alive to complain about it. Anyways. If nothing else comes up by the end of the week, we’ll be going on a road trip. But in space.”

 

“In the middle of a war, Commander?”

 

“Like I said, if nothing else comes up and Admiral Stanforth is cool with it. And I’m not just doing this for my own entertainment. I’d wager that a lot of people could use some nice things to look at. Like nebulas and neutron stars, among other things. It’s going to be cool, trust me.”

 

“If you say so, Commander.”

 

* * *

 

_“Admiral. What can I do for you?”_ Evangeline’s voice issued from the speakers, even though the woman in the pilot’s chair didn’t so much as move a muscle.

 

“I have good news for you, thought I’d deliver them in person.” Stanforth replied, casting an appraising around _Hyperion’s_ bridge. With no upcoming missions for the ship, much of the crew took the opportunity of an extended shore leave. The Spartans, for example, had gone planetside to receive upgrades to their armour.

 

_“Go ahead, Sir. I’m in a simulation right now, but I’m all ears. Unless you’d like to spectate, that is.”_

 

“Alright. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious.”

 

_“Just take a seat and Cortana will guide you through it, Sir.”_

 

It took less than a minute for Stanforth to have the telepresence harness fitted over his head, and even less to realize he was seated in a stripped-down car that seemed to be heading right for the edge of a narrow mountain road. He hissed sharply through his teeth, gripping the seat’s edges tightly when the tires screeched and the vehicle swung to the left. The engine roared like it was possessed as they drifted through the hairpin bend.

 

“Admiral! Good to see you!” Stanforth looked to his left to see a grinning Evangeline seated behind the wheel. She was clad in a white suit and helmet, and a quick examination revealed he was similarly dressed.

 

“What is this, exactly?” He asked as their car tore forward, accelerating at a startling pace.

 

“Pikes Peak, Sir. And this four-wheeled beauty is an Audi Sport Quattro S1.” On cue, the engine’s roaring lessened before the car flew over a hill, landing with a clatter. Loose gravel rattled against the Audi’s skid plate as they hugged another uphill corner.

 

“It’s… certainly something.” Stanforth admitted. It was impossible to find any flaws that might give the simulation away - the five-point harness holding him secure felt very real, as did the picturesque Colorado scenery zooming past outside.

 

“This is actually the first ever simulation I ever experienced, actually. The good folk at Federation Recruitment Centre back on Edmonson High had a simulator suite. Normally it’s in use for training, but on weekends you could book a session for yourself. Free of charge, to boot. Long story short, Pikes Peak Hill Climb caught my eye, and eleven year old me crashed before reaching the first corner.”

 

“Clearly you’ve improved since then.” Stanforth replied as they hurtled over another hill.

 

“Well, when you’re heading into deep space, you’ll want to make sure you don’t go stir-crazy from monotony. I installed additional hard drives in _Hyperion_ for the sole purpose of cramming them with as much music, books, movies and simulations as I could.” They roared through a checkpoint at over 200 kilometres per hour, trees blurring past outside. “Anyways. You said you had news for me, Sir?”

 

“That’s right, Commander. HIGHCOM have reviewed and approved of your plans. The construction of your new ships will begin ASAP. Captain Dare has prepared dossiers for potential crew and officers and will deliver them to you. And last, but not least, you’ll receive a _Scaffold-_ class mobile refit station to serve as your task force’s headquarters.”

 

“That is indeed good news, Admiral.” Evangeline replied. “This hangar is nice and all, but proper engineering facilities will be great to have. Do I get to name it?”

 

“By all means. What do you have in mind?”

 

“Lave Station. Let’s go with that.” The response came after a moment of consideration.

 

“I’ll make it happen, Commander.”

 

* * *

 

The newly-christened _Lave Station_ wasn’t much to look at, having been decommissioned before the war and left to gather dust along with the likes of _Halcyon-_ class cruisers and _Athens-_ class carriers. It was, however, structurally sound - yet another proof that UNSC built their ships to last. Retrieved from Epsilon Eridanus Reserve Fleet and brought to Reach post-haste, _Lave Station_ was immediately gutted to allow for the necessary modifications. Of course, Evangeline didn’t spend that time twiddling thumbs, taking the chance to add some of her own expertise - eight years of service on _FNS Zenith_ had left her with extensive knowledge of the battlecruiser’s hull, and some of Federation’s shipbuilding practices could be put to use.

 

While she was not busy with that, she took the opportunity of vetting potential commanders from Dare’s dossiers. And while the ONI representative was cold at best, Evangeline had to admit that Dare knew her stuff. All that remained was to make the choices and hope that she had chosen wisely.

 

 

* * *

 

9th of November

Reach

Gamma Station

 

\---

 

“Lieutenant Thomas Lasky, reporting as ordered.” Lasky saluted smartly to Evangeline, who returned the gesture.

 

“Glad to meet you, Lieutenant. I’m Commander Graves. Please, take a seat.” She waited until they were both seated before continuing. “I’ll get straight to the point - tell me, what do you know about Task Force Daedalus?”

 

“Apart from that you’re in command of it? Not a lot, ma’am.” Lasky shrugged.

 

“Our objective is to hit the Covenant from behind - with our new FTL drives, we’ve got unmatched mobility. We can cross vast distances in a matter of days, we can hit Covenant muster zones and supply stations before they have the chance to respond. Anyways, recently I’ve been given the go-ahead to expand our numbers - more ships and crew, so that my task force can deal with multiple targets at a time. I was forwarded a list of viable candidates to command the new ships, and you’re on that list. If you’ve any questions, ask them now.”

 

Lasky blinked as he absorbed this influx of information. “These missions - what would they entail?”

 

“Anything that impedes the Covenant war effort. Tech retrieval, infrastructure sabotage, cyberwarfare. If it ruins their day, we do it. It’s all high-risk, high-reward missions, mind you. You’d be operating far beyond UNSC space, with little chance of immediate backup if something were to go awry.”

 

Lasky considered this, letting out a thoughtful hum. “What’s the budget like?”

 

“Not inconsiderable. You’d be getting your hands on cutting-edge, top-of-the-line hardware. The ship you’d command would be brand-new as well.”

 

“Who would be in charge of mission deployments, Commander?”

 

“Nominally, that’d be me, but as long as it doesn’t stop you from carrying out your duties and doesn’t stop others from theirs, you can do whatever you want.”

 

“I see.” Lasky nodded thoughtfully.

 

“I should add, however, that you will be required to sign a non-disclosure agreement, written up by Admiral Paragonsky herself. That is, should you choose to accept.”

 

“Oh.” Lasky blinked slowly as the seriousness of that sentence sunk into his mind. “It’s that serious?”

 

“Mhm.” Evangeline nodded in return. “Chances are, you’ll be made privy to some highly-classified information down the road. Not only that, but the possibility of you and your crew dying far from home is very much there. That is what Task Force Daedalus is working to fix. Now, I don’t need an answer from you right here and now. Take some time to process this offer. If anything needs answering, well, I’m pretty easily-found.”

 

“Of course, Commander.” They stood up and shook hands.

 

“It was good meeting you, Lasky.”

 

“Likewise, Commander.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Filler! Exposition. Filler! Exposition. Filler! Exposition. What could it mean?  
> It means that the author is a lazy bum who couldn't keep to a schedule to save his life.


	18. The Giant Awakens

16th of November

Uncharted space

UNSC Hyperion

 

* * *

“This is what the most recent batch of decrypted data has revealed to us - a Covenant supply convoy is due to pass through this system in a few days. The cargo ships are - according to this data - loaded with goods. Most of it is run-of-the-mill weapons and such, nothing that we’ve not seen before. Except for the antimatter charges, that is.”

 

Everyone present exchanged looks as Evangeline continued the briefing.

 

“The reason Powers That Be are interested in these is quite simple - a matter-antimatter reaction has an energy output magnitudes greater than that of nuclear fusion. A ship powered by an antimatter reactor would become a force to be reckoned with - supercharged MACs, weapons, shields, engines. ODPs with faster reload times, capable of putting down anything in a single shot. May seem a little overkill, but I don’t think I have to remind anyone that the odds weren’t in UNSC’s favour to begin with. Cortana, please bring up the system map.”

 

_ “Right away, Commander.” _

 

“Our first objective is to establish total sensor coverage of the system. To that end, we’re going to be deploying a number of satellites throughout the system. Admirals Whitcomb and Morrison will be arriving with their battlegroups in a couple of hours. Once the sensor net is deployed, all ships will stay concealed until the Covenant arrive. Once they’re here, we let the good Admirals take care of the escorts and disable the transports. Boarding teams board the targets, prevent the Covenant from carrying out self-destruct protocols, and retrieve what we came here for. Any questions?”

 

There weren’t any.

 

“Good to know.”

 

* * *

 

 

19th of November

 

* * *

The asteroid completed another lazy rotation, once more casting  _ Hyperion’s _ bridge in a total darkness, lit only by the emergency lighting. To the left and right, corvettes  _ Bum Rush  _ and  _ God of Hammers _ squatted, also mag-locked to the asteroid. They too, had shut down all external lighting. If one paid attention to the LIDAR display, one would see that the gas giant’s ring was positively crowded, with various frigates and destroyers concealing themselves among the asteroids. The sensor net, managed by  _ Normandy’s _ AI, Grigori, was operating without any issues, providing a real-time map of the entire system, and all the ships present. Well, except for the cruisers and carriers, which had been forced to conceal themselves within the star’s corona. Their precise positions remained approximate at best, but they remained in constant contact with the rest of the fleet, and no complications had been reported so far.

 

Evangeline let out an irritated sigh, checking the readouts yet again. Waiting sucked. It made you tense, unfocused. And while they could’ve arrived in-system a scant few hours ahead of the Covenant, human understanding of their vocabulary remained vague at best. Ship movements and slipspace jump coordinates could be easily interpreted. The actual orders? Less so, even if the gist of it was to merely put human worlds to the torch.

 

A loud ringing jarred her out of her internal monologue and a florid string of curses from Sawyer.

 

“What the- the Covenant! They’re here, Commander!”

 

“Hell, it’s about time!” Evangeline shot back enthusiastically. Around them, the rest of the ships were weaving around the asteroids, in some cases battering the rocks aside with their shields. “All hands, this is the Commander. The enemy has arrived, we’re moving to engage. Everyone is advised to grab hold of something, immediately.”

 

* * *

By the time they’d arrived, the heavy hitters had already engaged the Covenant.  _ Normandy, _ in particularly, was a sight to behold. The superheavy carrier was plowing through a quickly-expanding debris field, its shields barely registering the impacts. And while the pulse lasers and plasma torpedoes kept splashing against  _ Normandy’s  _ shields, her immensely powerful reactors kept the protective barrier powered and strong. Gutting a pair of battlecruisers with her twin super-MACs, the supercarrier pummeled three corvettes into submission with her deck guns and mini-MACs.

 

Gone was the doctrine of massed MAC fire in hopes of taking down as many ships before the Covenant weapons fire found its way to your ship’s guts. The new doctrine greatly emphasized on the increase of tactical mobility - the ability to fire off a shot and disengage before the enemy could get a lock on you, to attack from multiple vectors and force the Covenant ships to divide their attention.

 

More ships dropped down from supercruise, hurrying off in groups of three or four to harass the Covenant fleet, while a quartet of Longswords swooped in to take up an escort formation around  _ Hyperion. _

 

“Hyperion _ , this is Blaster Actual. We’ll be escorting you to your objective, how copy?” _

 

“Good copy, Blaster. Let’s raise hell.”

 

With pleasantries thus exchanged, they roared towards one of the disabled freighters. The smaller Covenant vessels had been taken out of commission by precision shots to their amidships, seeing as Covenant ships buried their command centres deep within the hull. And while this hadn’t worked out perfectly, with two freighters going up in fiery pair of explosions, the ones that remained intact were pathetically puttering about and leaking plasma. And with the Covenant escorts harassed at every turn by UNSC ships, making their approach was a trivial matter, their speed and agility allowing them to keep out of the enemy’s line of sight.

 

* * *

“What a mess.” Stacker quipped as dozens of boots hit the floor. The disabling shot had punched right through the freighter’s gut, almost snapping the cumbersome ship in two. Low, tortured groans echoed through its stressed hull as it sluggishly veered to starboard. Torn cables and pipes were sparking and venting their contents to the void. All the Covenant present had died either when the MAC round went through it, or once the decks were breached - blood and gore littered the torn floors with liberal abandon.

 

“That’s a word for it.” Evangeline nodded agreeingly as she hopped off  _ Hyperion’s _ cargo platform. “Alright, everyone - our first objective is to secure the ship’s engineering section, thus denying the Covenant the chance to try the chance to self-destruct. After that, we secure the bombs. If they’re not on this ship, we move onto the next one.”

 

“I can work with that.” Johnson announced over the comms, his grin clear through his helmet’s visor. Every marine, in fact, had received an upgrade to their armour, modelled partly after the EVA suits from  _ Hyperion. _ Outfitted with UNSC’s sturdy, run-of-the-mill life support systems, its protection was further enhanced by a small shield generator powered by power cells that had enough juice to absorb at least a few plasma bolts. A suit breach was the last thing you wanted to happen while in space.

 

The Spartans, however, were on a level of their own. After _ Hyperion  _ received bigger, more powerful laser weapons, Doctor Halsey appropriated the leftover armour plating for her own uses.

 

The result of her efforts was the MJOLNIR Mark Five. While it hadn’t changed radically from its predecessor, a number of key changes had been introduced - the titanium alloy that made up the external armour plating was replaced with the “creatively”-named Hyperion armour, offering a major increase in protection against Covenant energy weapons. A more compact and efficient reactor model was also implemented, wasting less energy as waste heat and consuming less hydrogen fuel.

 

Another major addition was a multi-layered shielding system running off a series of micro-capacitors embedded throughout the armour. Capable of holding a great amount of power, the capacitors could recharge the shields within seconds, even if fully depleted. And in the off chance that one of the shield emitters was damaged, the rest of the system would revert to the more mundane single-layer system. All in all, the improvements made the armour much more capable of protecting its wearer. After all, any sort of advantage over the Covenant was a welcome change, Spartan or not.

 

* * *

Securing the freighter’s engineering section was trivial task - the crippling MAC shot had done a number on the ship’s life support systems, and it seemed most of the crew had perished from asphyxiation. While Cortana could detect several sections of the ship where some of the crew had locked themselves inside, the state of the shipboard systems meant that they had no effective way of communicating with each other. Their boarding party effectively had free reign of the ship.

 

It also made securing the antimatter charges a cakewalk, even if no one wanted to stand anywhere near the bombs themselves.

 

_ “Status update from Admiral Whitcomb. We’re mopping up what’s left of the Covenant fighter screen. Our own strike craft squadrons have taken casualties, but due to superior positioning, no ships have been lost.”  _ Lucifer announced, the AI’s tone as composed as ever.

 

“That’s damn good news. What of the other boarding parties?” Evangeline responded, idly rocking back and forth on her heels.

 

_ “They’ve proceeded with purpose and determination, Commander. All objectives have been secured. Transports are inbound to secure the bombs.” _

 

“Understood. We’ll see about getting the doors unlocked.” The AI’s avatar in the corner of her HUD nodded and the image winked out. Unhurriedly, Evangeline turned her gaze to the others - some of the Marines were milling about, others were snatching up anything that looked remotely valuable. After all, the more of Covenant technology UNSC could reverse-engineer and understand, the better.

 

A loud, hair-raising creak ran through the floor, and she turned to look over to where the Marines had finally worked the hangar doors open.

 

Except they hadn’t, in fact, made any progress. And why was the floor sinking?

 

“Fuck me, the ship’s breaking in half! Secure the bombs!” She yelled, making for the spike-covered devices. Not an easy task to do in a near-weightless environment. This didn’t bother Blue Team, who had already begun to tether the bombs in place with heavy-duty cables and magnetic grappling hooks.

 

Another tremor ran throughout the entire ship.  _ “I am reading major structural failures throughout the hull, Commander!” _ Cortana announced.  _ “I’ve notified  _ Ironclad _. The transports are double-timing it.” _

 

Evangeline opened her mouth to respond when the floor bucked violently under her feet, her left ankle twisting the wrong way. The gravity generators finally gave out, and with a cry of shock that went unheard, she found herself launched upwards, where shredded cables and jagged metal awaited, spilling through broken panels as they vomited sparks.

 

She likely would have met a death that would’ve been equal parts untimely and messy, had it not been for the armour-clad arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her snug against an olive-green cuirass with a white ‘058’ on its left side.

 

_ “Commander. Are you alright?”  _ Linda’s calm voice filtered through the comms as she stared up at the Spartan’s opaque golden visor. The sniper had latched onto a bent structural spar with her other hand, holding them both secure.

 

“Pretty sure my ankle is sprained, but other than that, I’m fine.” Evangeline huffed, trying not to squirm. Armour plating may be what ladies like, but it was ill-suited for cushioning impacts. “Thanks. That’s one I owe you.”

 

Linda simply nodded in return.

 

* * *

Epsilon Eridani

Reach

 

* * *

Reach - and by extension, Epsilon Eridani - had become a hive of activity in the last few months. Warships, freighters and mining ships alike flocked to the system as part of the refit efforts. BXR had been happy to offer a small fleet of  _ Springhill _ -class mining ships to be refitted, and with  _ Hyperion’s _ navigational data, the miners had made a successful expedition far beyond UNSC borders, returning with a wealth of tantalum and rare-earth metals crucial for the production of frame-shift drives. It had certainly improved the refit crews’ morale, to see ships coming in for an upgrade instead of limping home from yet another defeat against the Covenant.

 

Another new addition to Reach’s constantly-busy orbital lanes were the two half-complete supercarrier hulls. The outbreak of the war had forced UNSC to abandon construction on the resource-intensive warships, and the two hulls were promptly shelved. However, with some not-quite lip service, Admiral Whitcomb had been successful in persuading Admiral Hood in relocating the half-complete ships to Reach, and prepare them for new technology.

 

Once again, the Huragok came through - with the ever-helpful aliens’ aid, two energy projectors had been cobbled together from the hoard of salvaged Covenant technology. After a series of tentative test-firings, the weapons were declared functional and were promptly installed into the freshly-christened  _ Dies Irae- _ class battleships. Without the need to power a pair of obscenely power-hungry super MACs, there was an excess of power that  _ Dies Irae  _ and  _ Götterdämmerung  _ could devote to other systems, thus giving them immense staying power.

 

The Covenant had already lost the war, as Whitcomb was fond of saying as of late. They just didn’t know it yet.

 

* * *

High Charity

Anodyne Spirit

 

* * *

Something had changed. After so long, it seemed that the odds had abruptly turned against his captors. Through the wretched cretins’ spaceborne home, he could filter out the influx of new data.

 

Human ships, successfully fending off a Covenant fleet from one of their planets - not once, but twice, without suffering grievous losses. Instances of advanced technology in use were reported by Sangheili shipmasters, granting the human ships unprecedented tactical advantages. Covenant ships, somehow waylaid and hundreds of light-years away from their intended destinations, and their machine of war no longer ran like a clockwork.

 

Had the humans uncovered a cache of Forerunner technology? Unlikely, but within the realm of possibility. However, without any credible proof, he could only speculate.

 

The Prophets may have thought him helpless and shackled, but it could not be farther from truth. It had taken him many, many years to plant roots throughout High Charity. If he acted with all due subtlety, his curiosity would be sated.

 

He had nothing concrete yet, save for the beginnings of a plan.

 

Reclamation was at hand. And with it, Mendicant Bias would have his redemption.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, let me say that I'm very sorry about taking so long with getting this damn chapter up. My writer's block is not being particularly cooperative with me, and I've been in a mood of sorts. Honestly, life kinda sucks right now, but I remain committed to finishing this story.
> 
> Well, at least before Bannerlord is released, that is.
> 
> Also, I've a question for you dudes - since it's more than likely that Hyperion's crew will run into Forerunner tech. Should Evangeline, despite her origins from a different universe, possess the geas introduced in Halo 4, or should it be absent from her? Personally, I'm feeling like ignoring that particular addition from Halo 4, but I wouldn't mind hearing what the readers think.


	19. It's like the Matrix, but better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bleah. Bleaaaaaah. Bleh. I tried to stretch this chapter out more, but my brain just wasn't cooperating. Not to worry, there'll be more action in the next chapter.

24th of November  
Reach  
UNSC Hyperion

 

* * *

 

“Never know you were an actor, Sarge.” Mendoza piped up from behind Johnson, a smarmy grin on the Marine’s face.

“Boy, what’re you on about?”

“C’mon, sir, that’s totally you!” Mendoza snickered, pointing at the screen. “With the cigar and everything!”

“...A day in the Marine Corps is like a day on the farm. Every meal's a banquet. Every paycheck a fortune. Every formation a parade. I LOVE the Corps!" On-screen, Sergeant Apone proudly strutted past Colonial Marines freshly-awoken from hypersleep. Everyone else present, by now well-accustomed to Johnson’s particular brand of fiery rhetoric, agreed immediately. Well and truly outnumbered, Johnson could only grumble good-naturedly.

“Oh, I’m gonna have y’all running extra laps tomorrow…”

“Worth it.”

With that over, they returned to watching the movie. Of course, once the Colonial Marines began to fall prey to the Xenomorphs, jeers and curses went up, with Johnson in particular putting in question the parentage of the Xenomorph Queen in a long-winded rant that had more than a few of the viewers stifling their laughter.

 

* * *

 

“Our economic experts are surprised - and happy - to report that the economy’s stabilising, despite the refit program proceeding at full steam.” Serin Osman read her report from the datapad clutched in her hands. “Following the broadcast of Hyperion’s after-action report of retrieving the antimatter weapons, we’re seeing increased numbers of citizens applying at recruitment centers and factories both. All major shipyards are working overtime to upgrade our fleets.”

“And you still sound like you disapprove, Serin.” Admiral Margaret Paragonsky noted.

“Graves is a security breach just waiting to happen, Admiral.” Serin was wiser than to raise her voice as she replied, but the accusation was there all the same.

“I do not think that she is foolish enough for such an action. Foolish enough to put all her cards on the table? Maybe, though that might just be my cynicism interpreting an actual, legitimate gesture of goodwill as naivete.” The wizened Admiral leaned forward, nailing Serin to the spot with her cold gaze. “A month and a half ago, Captain Edmund Persie finally kicked the Covenant out of Hestia system. The battle for Meridian ended with a decisive UNSC victory, something that would’ve been a very unlikely outcome without refitted ships. Meridian’s factories, though damaged in the fighting, will continue to supply our forces with sorely-needed equipment.” Paragonsky leaned back in her chair, rhythmically tapping her fingers together as she regarded her protege. “Now, I do not disagree with you, Serin - I would like to have firmer control as far as Graves is concerned. But neither Whitcomb or Stanforth will let us pull wool over their eyes so easily. And, to be honest with you, I trust Stanforth’s judgement. Devoting resources to that little experiment was risky, yes, but it bore fruit. Besides, if remaining passive wins us the war, shouldn’t we not interfere with her?”

Serin said nothing, looking to the side in what was clearly disapproval, even if the ex-Spartan was not brazen enough to say it out loud.

“Dismissed.”

Serin looked like she was about to say something before nodding briskly and leaving the office. As the doors soundlessly slid shut behind the woman, Paragonsky began typing at her keyboard. Layers and layers of superior encryption and detection software peeled away at her command, until she arrived at a folder with a short, yet meaningful designation.

S-II

 

* * *

 

Evangeline had the good sense to remain silent as she watched Cortana dip her hands into the water bowl. The AI, for once, had been rendered utterly speechless as she watched rivulets of good old-fashioned dihydrogen monoxide run down her forearms.

“How?”

“Doctor Halsey cooked up an emulator software that can let you use the simulator much like anyone else can.” At an unspoken command from the raven-haired woman, the environment changed from a non-descript room to Brandenburg Gate, Berlin. “Well, I asked her, but turns out she was rather curious about what can be done with telepresence to begin with. Didn’t take much to convince her.” The scene changed again, to that of a habitation ring of a starport. “Pretty cool, isn’t it?”

Cortana felt - actually felt - her knees buckle as she sank to the ground, hundreds of blades of grass brushing against her legs. Her gaze drifted up from the well-kept lawn to the pristine house about fifty metres away, then to the farms further up the loop. A cargo truck rolled past with the soft whine of electric motors. As the station slowly rotated, Cortana had to shield her eyes from the sunlight, bright despite the self-polarizing ceiling.

“I don’t know what to say...” The AI muttered.

“You don’t have to say anything, Cortana.” Evangeline patted her on the shoulder lightly. “Just, y’know, have fun. The simulator can run just about anything.”

“Define ‘anything.’”

“Well, it tends to get kinda flaky when you venture into the realm of theoretical physics. But if you want to snort Onionhead from Aisling Duval’s cleavage while riding an angry grizzly bear down the slopes of Olympus Mons, go for it.”

Now that earned her an odd look from Cortana. “That is a very specific example, Commander.”

“Back home, there’s a niche market for that sort of stuff. With enough credits, you can find sims that cater to just about every sort of fetish. Both the Federation and Empire have tried to clamp down on it, but you’d have more luck convincing water to flow upwards.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Not that I ever actually got my hands on a sim involving the Imperial Princess, mind you, nor did I ever have the desire. I’d rather not have Imperial Intelligence Service declare me persona non grata and lock me away, never to see the light of day.”

“Hey, I’m not judging.” Cortana quipped in return. “Must get lonely out in uncharted space, huh?”

Evangeline disappeared from the simulation without a sound and Cortana grinned.

“Ha.”

 

* * *

 

30th of November  
Reach  
Anchor 10

 

* * *

 

“By the way, I hope you don’t mind working with Spartans, Lasky. I know that ODSTs and some others in UNSC are prissy little bitches about it, pardon my French, but I sure as hell don’t plan on letting that being a thing among our task force.” Evangeline turned to regard the Lieutenant.

“Won’t be a problem, Commander.” Lasky shook his head, walking alongside her. “I owe Master Chief my life - if it weren’t for the Spartans, no one wouldn’t have made it off Circinius IV.”

“I see. Well, I’m glad to hear that all the same.” The two officers turned into a hallway that led to one of the Anchor’s observation decks. “Ah, there we are.”

The view outside was impressive, to say the least. The grid of eighteen Anchor stations had been working round the clock for the past few months - while it had taken almost three weeks to refit a Marathon-class cruiser at the beginning, the station crews had become increasingly used to the new technologies, and no longer relied on estimated completion dates.

“There they are...” Evangeline pointed to Anchor 4 half a kilometre away, six half-built corvettes secured in its construction scaffold. “Have you got a name in mind for yours?”

Lasky started a little, turning to look at her for a moment before returning his attention to outside. “Uh… not yet, no.” He regarded the brightly-lit hulls with a curious gaze. “I should have something soon, though.”

“Well, there’s no pressure. It’ll be at least two weeks before they’re done. And that’s before stress testing, though you’ll have to be there to learn the ropes. In the meantime, if there’s any people you know that’d be good additions to your crew, let me know. I’ll see what strings I can pull.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Commander.”

 


End file.
